Jilt    ; 


ii 


iHin. 


FROM    THE    LIBRARY    OF 


REV     LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON.    D.  D 


■COUCATMED    BY    HIM    TO 


THE    LIBRARY    OF 


PRINCETON    THEOLOGICAL    SEMINARY 


DiTirioo 
Sacdoa 


/ 


xJ 


'Pf^ify 


^ 


'Ml 


@ 


!       '   ^  !  ijp# 


LIFE 


*  SEP  15  1931 * 


O  F 


JAMES  MONTGOMERY 


BY 


/ 


MRS.  HELEN  C.  KNIGHT, 

AUTHOR  OP  "LADY  HUSTINGTON  AND  HER  FRIENDS," 
"MEMOIRS  OE  HANNAH  MORE,"  ETC. 


" who  of  protracted  days 

Made  not,  as  thousands  do,  a  vulgar  sleep, 
But  truly  did  he  live  his  life." 


BOSTON: 


GOULD      AND      LINCOLN, 

59      WASHINGTON      STREET. 

NEW    YORK:    SHELDON,  BLAKE  MAN    &    CO. 
CINCINNATI :    GEORGE   S.  BLANCIIARD. 

1857. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1857,  by 

GOULD     AND     LINCOLN, 

Iu  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


1'KINTED  BY 

GEORGE   C.  RAND  &  AVERY. 


PREFACE. 


"We  introduce  to  our  readers  James  Montgomery. 

His  English  biographers,  Mr.  John  Holland  and  Rev. 
James  Everett,  with  affectionate  assiduity  have  issued 
his  life  in  seven  volumes.  Precious  as  the  most  insig- 
nificant memorials  of  him  must  be  to  personal  friends, 
and  interesting  as  are  all  the  links  which  bind  a  man  to 
his  own  country,  a  great  portion  of  this  ample  detail 
possesses  little,  if  any  interest,  to  an  American  public. 
It  therefore  has  been  our  work  to  sift  out  from  this  the 
true  wheat  of  his  life,  and  mould  it  anew. 

With  none  of  the  classic  richness  of  Rogers,  the 
weird  originality  of  Coleridge,  the  introspective  sweet- 
ness of  Wordsworth,  or  the  fascinating  romance  of  Scott, 
there  is  a  moral  earnestness,  an  unaffected  grace,  a 
purity  of  diction,  which  penetrate  the  heart  and  place 
his  poetry  among  the  permanent  literature  of  England. 

The  Christian  element  of  his  hymns  gave  them  wings. 
Besides  expressing  what  the  renewed  soul  has  felt  through 
all  ages,  he  gave  utterance   to   many  of  the  new  forms 


iv  PREFACE. 

of  Christian  life,  with  their  corresponding  inspirations, 
thrilling  the  spirit  and  firing  it  with  fresh  devotion  to 
the  Master's  work. 

Not  as  a  poet  only  does  Montgomery  claim  our  re- 
verent attention.  As  a  model  of  the  Christian  citizen, 
he  stands  pre-eminent. 

Steadfastly  promoting  public  improvements,  and  pa- 
tiently fostering  every  charitable  enterprise,  catholic  in 
spirit  and  loyal  to  conscience,  unselfish  in  his  aims  and 
rich  in  practical  wisdom,  prudent  in  counsel  and  warm 
in  his  affections,  he  identified  himself  with  all  the  best 
interests  of  Sheffield,  and  took  a  high  place  in  the  con- 
fidence and  respect  of  his  towns-fellows. 

Nor  were  his  labors  of  love  bounded  by  Sheffield. 
Welcoming  all  the  new-born  activities,  which  mark  the 
Church  of  Christ  during  the  present  century,  he  engaged 
in  their  furtherance  with  singular  devotedness.  And  even 
when  age  and  infirmities  might  justly  have  pleaded  ex- 
emption from  duty,  a  scrupulous  fidelity  to  its  claims 
kept  him  to  his  post  even  to  the  end. 

"Born  to  stand 


A  prince  among  the  worthies  of  the  land. 
More  than  a  prince  —  a  sinner  saved  by  grace, 
Prompt,  at  his  meek  and  lowly  Master's  call, 
To  prove  himself  the  minister  of  all." 

II.  C.  K. 


C  ONTENTS. 


CHAPTER    I. 


PAGE 
EARLY   DAYS  —  DEPARTURE    FOR   ENGLAND  —  MORAVIAN    SETTLEMENT 

IN  YORKSHIRE  —  CHURCH  FESTIVALS  AT  FULNECK  —  CELEBRA- 
TION OF  EASTER  SUNDAY  —  POETICAL  READINGS  —  MORAVIAN 
MISSIONS.  11 


CHAPTER     II. 


SCHOOL-LIFE  AT  FULNECK  —  RUNNING  AWAY  —  HIS  JOURNEY  —  CON- 
SENT OF  MORAVIAN  FRIENDS  —  CLERKSHIP  —  HIS  EARLY  LOVE  — 
GOING   TO   LONDON.  25 


CHAPTER    III. 

MISSIONARY  EXPERIENCE  —  DISCOURAGING  OCCURRENCES  —  DEATH 
OF  HIS  PARENTS  —  ARRIVAL  IN  LONDON — HIS  WANT  OF  SUCCESS 
—  CONTEMPORANEOUS   GENIUS  —  NEW   SCHOOLS    OF    POETRY.  .  36 


CHAPTER     IV. 

SETTLEMENT  AT  SHEFFIELD  —  NATIONAL  DISQUIET  —  POLITICAL 
HYMN  —  GALES'S  DEPARTURE  —  ESTABLISHMENT  OF  THE  IRIS  — 
INVOCATION   TO   THE   IRIS  —  POSITION    AS    EDITOR.  ...  51 


vi  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER     V. 

PAGE 
POLITICAL     ENTANGLEMENTS  —  CHARGE     OF     LIBEL    AGAINST     MONT- 
GOMERY—  HIS     TRIAL  —  IMPRISONMENT    AT    YORK     CASTLE  —  RE- 
LEASE   FROM   PRISON  —  SECOND   IMPRISONMENT.  ...  65 


CHAPTER    VI. 

PRISON  LIFE  —  LETTER  TO  JOSEPH  ASTON  —  "PRISON  AMUSEMENTS" 
—  RELINQUISHES  POLITICS  —  POLITICAL  FACTIONS  —  VISIT  TO 
YORK  CASTLE  —  LETTERS  TO  MR.  ASTON  —  ANXIETY  AND  DEPRES- 
SION—  RELIGIOUS   IMPRESSIONS 79 


CHAPTER     VII. 

SELF  UPBRAIDINGS  —  CONFLICTS   AND  WAVERINGS  —  LETTERS   TO  HIS 
BROTHER  —  SPIRITUAL      DARKNESS  —  RIGHT     VIEWS     OF     SAVING 

FAITH  —  SPIRITUAL     LIGHT VIEWS     ON     HYMN     WRITING  —  NOTE 

TO   A   QUAKER    FRIEND 06 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

EDITORIAL  NOTICES  —  FUGITIVE   POEMS  —  DR.   AIKIN  —  HOME  AFFEC- 
TIONS  "THE  WANDERER    OF   SWITZERLAND"  —  ITS   RECEPTION  — 

EDINBURGH  REVIEW  —  NEW  FRIENDS  —  DANIEL  PARKEN  —  LIT- 
TLE POEMS  —  LYRICAL  BALLADS  —  SOUTHEY'S  ADVICE  TO  EL- 
LIOTT.   112 


CHAPTER    IX. 

THE     CHIMNEY-SWEEPS  —  LOTTERIES  —  VISIT     TO     LONDON  —  SLAVE- 
TRADE —  "THE     WEST     INDIES"  —  "THE     WORLD     BEFORE     THE 


CONTENTS.  vii 

PAGE 
FLOOD"  —  VISIT    FROM     HIS    BROTHER    ROBERT  —  HART'S-HEAD — 

THE  POET'S  HOME — PARKEN'S  MATRIMONIAL  ADVICE  —  CRITICISMS 

—  LETTERS  FROM  SOUTHEY  AND  ROSCOE 136 


CHAPTER    X. 

MAY  IN  LONDON  —  MAY  MEETINGS  —  <;  THE  GOOD  OLD  WAY"  —  RE- 
LIGIOUS SOCIETIES  —  COLERIDGE  AND  CAMPBELL  LECTURE  —  LET- 
TERS TO  PARKEN  —  LETTER  FROM  SOUTHEY  —  PARKEN'S  DEATH 
—  LETTERS   TO   IGNATIUS   MONTGOMERY  —  BUXTON.  .  .  .       176 


CHAPTER    XI. 

"THE  WORLD  BEFORE  THE  FLOOD"  PUBLISHED  —  NEW  INTERESTS 
—  ENGAGES  IN  RELIGIOUS  LABORS  —  SUNDAY-SCHOOL  UNION  — 
BIBLE  SOCIETY  —  HIS  FIRST  SPEECH  —  CORRESPONDENCE  WITH 
HIS  BROTHER  IGNATIUS  —  RE-ADMISSION  TO  THE  MORAVIAN 
CHURCH  —  DAWNING  PEACE  —  SUNDAY-SCHOOL   LABORS.  .  .       197 


CHAPTER    XII. 

LETTER  FROM  SOUTHEY  —  SARAH  GALES'S  DEPARTURE  FROM  ENG- 
LAND —  LOTTERY  ADVERTISEMENTS  —  APPEAL  FOR  MORAVIAN  MIS- 
SIONS IN  GREENLAND  —  LITERARY  PROFITS  —  DEATH  OF  ELIZA- 
BETH GALES  —  DEPUTATION  OF  THE  LONDON  MISSIONARY  SOCIETY 
—  DEPARTURE  OF  GEORGE  BENNETT  —  CORRESPONDENCE  —  MANI- 
FOLD LABORS  —  "DAISY  IN  INDIA"  —  CALL  FROM  SOUTHEY  — 
LABORS  FOR  THE  CHIMNEY-SWEEPS  —  AN  AMERICAN  GENTLEMAN 
AT   HART'S-HEAD 209 


yiii  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER     XIII. 

PAGE 
WITHDRAWAL  FROM  THE  "  IRIS  " — REMINISCENCES  —  PUBLIC  DIN- 
NER—  TOKENS  OF  RESPECT  —  CHRISTIAN  PSALMIST  —  SENTIMENTS 
ON  HYMNOLOGY —  LETTER  TO  MR.  BENNETT —  "THE  STRANGER 
AND  HIS  FRIEND  "  —  TOUR  —  "  PELICAN  ISLAND  "  —  ANTI-SLAVERY 
MEETINGS  —  MRS.  HEMANS  —  ROBERT  MONTGOMERY  —  LETTERS 
FROM  SOUTHEY  —  VISIT  TO   KESWICK.  240 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

RETURN  OF  MR.  BENNETT  —  DEATH  OF  DANIEL  TYREMAN  —  EDITO- 
RIAL DUTIES  —  LETTER  OF  ADVICE  TO  A  YOUNG  POET  —  LEC- 
TURES IN  LONDON  UPON  POETRY  —  DR.  MILNOR  —  VOYAGES  AND 
TRAVELS  OF  TYREMAN  AND  BENNETT  —  LETTER  TO  SAMUEL  DUNN 
—  ANTI-SLAVERY  REJOICINGS. 270 


CHAPTER    XV. 


INVITATION  TO  VISIT  THE  UNITED  STATES  —  PROFESSORSHIP  OF 
RHETORIC  —  MRS.  HOFLAND  —  DORA  WORDSWORTH'S  ALBUM  — 
THE  MOUNT — SCOTT  —  LECTURING  —  LETTER  TO  MR  BENNETT  — 
DEATH  OF  MR.  HODGSON  —  CHRISTIAN  CORRESPONDENT  AT  LON- 
DON—  DEATH  OF  ANNA  GALES  —  LIFE   OF   SCOTT.  .  .  .       294 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

VICTORIA  ON  THE  BRITISH  THRONE  —  REJOICINGS  AT  SHEFFIELD  — 
APPEAL  FOR  THE  POOR  —  LETTER  TO  A  "FAR  WEST"  COLLEGE 
—  AT  BRISTOL  —  LECTURING  TOUR  —  CENTENARY  OF  METHOD- 
ISM —  REV.  WILLIAM  JAY'S  JUBILEE  —  DEATH  OF  IGNATIUS 
MONTGOMERY.  ...       317 


CON  T  E  N  T  S  .  ix 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

PAGE 
VISIT    TO     SCOTLAND  —  RECEPTION    AT     GLASGOW  —  DR.    WARDLAW's 

SPEECH  OF  WELCOME  —  MONTGOMERY'S  REPLY  —  HIS  ACCOUNT 
OF  THE  MORAVIANS  —  PUBLIC  BREAKFAST  —  RECEPTION  AT  HIS 
NATIVE  PLACE  —  RECEPTION  AT  GREENWICH,  STIRLING,  DUNDEE, 
EDINBURGH,  ETC.  —  DR.  HUIE'S  SPEECH  —  CONTRIBUTION  FOR 
MORAVIAN  MISSIONS  —  MONTGOMERY'S  APPEARANCE  IN  COM- 
PANY  331 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

death  of  mr.  bennett  —  robbery  at  the  mount visit  to  ire- 
land—  death  of  southey  —  new  poet-laureate  —  visit  to 
buxton  —  lecturing  at  liverpool  —  letter  to  dr.  raffles 

—  premonition  of  old  age  —  innovations  —  william  cullen 
bryant's  visit  —  longfellow  —  poem  to  "lily"  —  corn-laws 

—  letter  to  holland  —  hartley  coleridge.  .        .        .     347 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

WILBERFOUCE  —  HOWITT'S    "  HOMES     AND     HAUNTS     OF     THE    POETS  " 

—  VISIT    TO    WATH  —  REMINISCENCES     OF     YOUTH  —  ROSCOE     CLUB 

—  DEATH    OF    FRIENDS.  364 


CHAPTER    XX. 

EXTINCTION  OF  THE  IRIS  — LIFE  OF  KEATS  —  SHELLEY  —  MISSION- 
ARY JUBILEE  —  TRACT  SOCIETY  JUBILEE  —  SICKNESS — POEMS  — 
RECOVERY  —  VISIT  TO  FULNECK  —  CELEBRATION  OF  HIS  BIRTH- 
DAY—  TREE-PLANTING    AT   THE   MOUNT  —  VISIT   TO    BUXTON.  .       377 


x  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER     XXI. 

PAGE 
CONGREGATIONAL  UNION  —  EBENEZER  ELLIOTT  —  MORAVIAN  HYMN- 
BOOK  —  LETTER  TO  MR.  LATROBE  —  NEW  EDITION  OF  HIS  WORKS 
—  LETTER  FROM  LUCY  AIKIN  —  TENNYSON  —  THE  DECKIN  CHARITY 
ANTI-CATHOLIC  MEETING  —  CRYSTAL  PALACE  —  BIRTH-DAY  PRES- 
ENTS—  MONTGOMERY  MEDAL  —  MEMORIAL  TREES  —  VISIT  TO  THE 
SCHOOL  OF  DESIGN  —  LECTURE  BEFORE  THE  LITERARY  AND  PHILO- 
SOPHICAL SOCIETY  —  MEETING  OF  THE  METHODIST  CONFERENCE  — 
GRAY'S  POETRY  —  "ORIGINAL  HYMNS"— LETTER  FROM  LUCY  AIKIN 

AUTUMN  TRAIT — AT  HIS  POST  TO  THE  LAST  —  DEATH  —  FUNERAL 

— CONCLUSION.  393 


LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 


CHAPTER    I. 

EARLY  DAYS  — DEPARTURE  FOR  ENGLAND —  MORAVIAN  SETTLEMENT 
IN  YORKSHIRE  — CHURCH  FESTIVALS  AT  FULNECK  —  CELEBRATION 
OF    EASTER    SUNDAY  —  POETICAL    READINGS —  MORAVIAN    MISSIONS. 

"Grace  Hill"  —  The  name,  like  many  other  of  the 
Moravian  christenings,  "  Tents  of  peace,"  and  "  Pilgrim's 
resting-places,"  has  a  spiritual  significance,  pointing  towards 
a  relio-ious  faith,  which  cradled,  schooled,  and  carried  for- 
ward  its  disciples  with  a  paternal  lovingness  and  care. 

It  is  a  settlement  in  the  village  of  Ballymona,  Ireland, 
founded  by  that  "  hardy  worker  and  hearty  preacher,"  as 
Whitefield  calls  him,  John  Cennick,  one  of  the  fruits  of  the 
Great  Awakening,  and  for  a  time  teacher  in  the  famous 
school  of  Kingswood  Colliers.  Drifting  from  the  Metho- 
dist to  the  Moravian  current  of  religious  life,  he  established 
himself  in  Ireland,  where  his  earnest  preaching  gathered  a 
"  Settlement  of  the  Brethren,"  and  "  Grace  Hill,"  as  it  was 
named,  we  cannot  doubt,  became  a  beacon  light  to  many  a 
lost  and  wandering  one. 

Such  it  became  to  John  Montgomery,  a  young  man  in 
the  neighborhood,  who  left  his  all,  —  that  all  the  tools  of 


12  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

some  humble  craft,  —  to  join  the  Brethren,  by  whom  for  his 
gifts  or  graces  he  was  soon  singled  out  to  become  a  preacher 
of  the  gospel.  In  due  time  John  married  Mary  Blackley, 
the  daughter  of  a  grave  and  serious  matron,  and  together 
they  embarked  their  fortunes  in  the  self-denying  and  peril- 
ous labors  which  have  distinguished  the  Moravian  ministry. 
The  young  couple  were  sent  to  Irvine,  a  small  seaport  in 
Ayrshire,  the  first  spot  in  Scotland  where  these  godly  men 
found  a  footing,  and  were  there  domesticated  in  a  humble 
cottage  beside  the  chapel  wall,  the  pastor 

"  much  impressed 
Himself,  as  conscious  of  his  awful  charge, 
And  anxious  mainly  that  the  flock  he  feeds 
May  feel  it  too." 

Sorrow  and  joy  entered  their  open  door.  Death  took 
Mary,  their  eldest  born,  a  child  of  eighteen  months,  who 
u  was  the  first  grain  sown  in  the  Brethren's  burial-ground 
at  Ayr."  Then  a  new-born  took  its  place  in  the  mother's 
arms,  —  James,  a  son,  —  on  the  4th  of  November,  1771. 

Two  others,  Robert  and  Ignatius,  afterwards  came  to  be 
cradled  in  the  lowly  parsonage. 

James  was  a  yellow-haired  boy  of  sweet  and  serious  dis- 
position. Nature  in  her  manifold  forms  of  beauty  early 
delighted  his  eye  and  spoke  in  tenderness  or  awfulness  to 
his  soul.  The  round  red  moon  mounting  on  the  hills,  the 
young  moon  dropping  behind  the  west,  the  rolling  river  and 
the  dashing  ocean,  mingled  their  voices  with  the  martial 
pageantry  of  royal  birthdays,  and  all  the  sounds  and  sights 
of  busy  life  in  streets  and  at  shop  windows.  What  won- 
der and  admiration  stir  the  boy's  mind  as  he  looks  out  on 
the  great  marvels  of  the  world  into  which  he  is  born !  or, 
as  he  afterwards  sung, 


DEPARTURE    FOR    ENGLAND.  13 

"  Froud  reason  still  in  shadow  lay, 
And  in  my  firmament  alone, 
Forerunner  of  the  day, 

The  dazzling  star  of  wonder  shone, 
By  whose  enchanting  ray 
Creation  opened  on  my  earliest  view, 
And  all  was  beautiful  for  all  was  new." 

At  home  the  gentle  discourse  of  his  mother,  the  devout 
sobriety  of  his  father,  the  grave  mien  and  godly  spirit  of 
the  Brethren  as  they  come  in  and  sit  by  the  pastor's  hearth, 
awaken  within  him  reverent  thought,  and  he  early  feels  the 
presence  of  the  Great  Unseen  presiding  over  all  things 
without  and  within  his  little  hemisphere. 

And  so,  "  Heaven  lay  about  him  in  his  infancy." 

After  a  few  years'  residence  in  Scotland,  the  pastor  and 
his  family  returned  to  their  Irish  home,  and  James  passed 
from  the  gentle  tuition  of  his  mother  to  the  harder  tasks  of 
the  village  schoolmaster.  How  much  Master  Jemmy 
McCaffery  taught  the  boy  we  do  not  know,  but  the  band 
of  music  at  Gilgoran  castle,  near  by,  the  castle,  and  the 
soldiery,  often  led  away  his  truant  attention,  stealthily 
peeping  over  the  tree-tops  to  freer  and  gayer  scenes  beyond. 
That  James  needed  better  schooling  than  Grace  Hill  could 
then  afford,  forced  itself  strongly  upon  the  father,  and  a 
school  in  England  was  accordingly  determined  upon. 

A  tearful  parting  between  mother  and  child  —  his  warm 
kisses  on  her  wet  cheek  —  the  laughing  caress  of  the  baby 
in  her  lap  —  mother's  benedictions  and  childhood's  prom- 
ises—  good-byes  to  familiar  things  —  the  stir  of  a  departure 
about  the  door,  and  James  has  gone  —  gone  never  again  to 
have  a  home,  where 

"  mother,  wife, 
Strews  with  fresh  flowers  the  narrow  way  of  life, 
2 


14  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

Around  whose  knees  domestic  duties  meet, 
And  fireside  pleasures  gambol  round  her  feet." 

A  terrible  storm  overtook  the  little  Liverpool  packet 
having  on  board  the  father  and  son.  The  howling  wind 
and  groaning  timbers  filled  the  boy  with  fright.  He 
looked  into  his  father's  face.  It  was  calm  as  summer's 
evening. 

"  Trust  the  Lord  Jesus,  who  saved  the  apostles  on  the 
water,"  said  the  father.  The  boy  cast  himself  on  the  same 
arm  of  strength  and  sweetly  rested  there.  Peace  stole 
over  his  affrighted  spirit,  and  he  sat  quietly  through  the 
storm 

"  I  would  give  a  thousand  pounds  for  the  faith  of  that 
child,"  exclaimed  the  captain,  more  fully  perhaps  compre- 
hending the  peril  of  his  craft.  But  safely  the  little  packet 
outrode  the  storm.  They  arrived  at  Liverpool,  and  the 
pastor  and  his  son  proceeded  to  Fulneck. 

Fulneck  is  a  Moravian  settlement  in  the  parish  of  Calver- 
ley,  in  the  neighborhood  of  Leeds,  in  Yorkshire.  This  also 
had  its  planting  in  the  Great  Awakening.  Those  familiar 
with  that  glorious  era  of  moral  renovation  in  which  White- 
field  and  Wesley  bore  so  distinguished  a  part,  will  remem- 
ber Benjamin  Ingham,  one  of  the  little  band  of  praying 
students  at  Oxford,  who  were  first  cross-laden  with  the 
name  of  Methodists,  and  then  crowned  with  its  spiritual 
effulgence.  The  singleness  and  simplicity  of  the  Moravian 
faith  and  its  element  of  loving  consecration  to  the  Master's 
work  early  attracted  the  attention  of  Wesley  and  Ingham, 
who  at  different  times  visited  Count  Zinzendorf,  and  took 
sweet  counsel  with  the  Brethren  on  the  continent. 

It  was  in  their  pulpit  at  Fetter  Lane  that  Whitefield  and 
Wesley  first  preached,  in  their  company  that  the  earliest 


MORAVIAN    SETTLEMENT    IN    YORKSHIRE.      15 

missionary  tours  were  undertaken,  and  it  was  in  them  that 
they  first  beheld  the  power  of  that  grace,  which  could  fully 
deliver  the  soul  from  the  bondage  of  sin  and  legal  exactions 
and  make  it  free  in  the  free  and  glad  obedience  of  joint 
heirship  with  Christ,  the  Redeemer,  to  the  inheritance  of 
the  sons  of  God. 

Yorkshire,  his  native  county,  was  stirred  into  life  by  the 
strange  and  wonderful  preaching  of  Benjamin  Ingham, 
for  the  gospel  seemed  a  new  evangel  in  the  mouth  of  this 
sturdy  believer.  Rustic  and  craftsman,  high-born  and 
lowly,  flocked  to  hear  him.  Conscience  was  aroused;  sin 
and  holiness,  heaven  and  hell,  redemption  and  retribution, 
had  a  meaning  unfelt  before.  Morals  were  reformed,  per- 
sonal and  family  religion  rekindled,  and  little  companies  of 
believers  were  gathered  all  over  Yorkshire,  disowned,  in- 
deed, by  the  English  Church,  and  yet,  we  may  trust,  living 
members  of  that  living  body  whose  head  is  Christ. 

Lady  Margaret  Hastings,  sister-in-law  of  the  Countess  of 
Huntingdon,  was  among  the  first  fruits  of  Ingham's  spirit- 
ual husbandry,  and  it  was  from  Margaret's  lips  that  Lady 
Huntingdon  first  heard  the  language  of  heavenly  rejoicing. 
Margaret  afterwards  united  her  fortunes  with  Mr.  Ingham, 
und  together  they  spent  a  life  of  Christian  usefulness. 

Some  Moravian  Brethren  followed  him  to  Yorkshire,  to 
ensure  whose  stay  he  leased  them  land  for  a  settlement.  It 
Was  a  rough  moor,  near  rude  and  boorish  neighborhoods, 
where  no  seed  of  good  had  yet  been  strewn.  And  thither 
they  came  in  1748,  with  their  farming  tools  and  thrifty 
habits,  their  schools  and  their  hymn-books,  and  Fulneck, 
with  its  Bruder-Haus,  Schwester-Haus,  and  Prediger-Haus, 
became  the  Moravian  Goshen  of  Yorkshire. 

Here  was  brought  James  Montgomery  at  the  tender 
age  of  six,  and  committed  by  his  father  to  the  paternal 


16  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

guardianship  of  the  Brethren.  The  Fulneck  school  at  that 
time  bore  a  highly  respectable  reputation,  numbering  pu- 
pils from  every  part  of  the  kingdom.  The  religious  char- 
acter of  these  schools  is  very  remarkable.  Though  the 
discipline  is  strict,  it  does  not  seem  to  have  been  severe  or 
irksome.  Unlike  the  tyranny  which  was  exercised,  both  by 
teachers  over  their  pupils,  and  by  older  scholars  over  the 
younger,  in  other  English  schools,  a  genuine  friendship 
seems  to  have  existed  between  teachers  and  scholars. 
While  little  Robert  Southey  was  unmercifully  caned  by 
his  master  at  Bristol,  and  Coleridge  was  a  moping,  friend- 
less, half-starved  Blue-Coat  boy  in  London,  "  drinking  small 
beer  from  wooden  piggins  and  eating  milk-porridge,  blue 
and  tasteless,  on  Monday,  pea-soup,  coarse  and  choking,  on 
Saturday,  beside  an  extra  cut  at  the  end  of  every  flogging 
for  his  ugliness,"  James  Montgomery  seems  to  have  been 
surrounded  by  an  atmosphere  of  love,  and  sat  at  a  table 
spread  with  good  will,  and  bread  as  good. 

"  Whatever  we  did,"  he  tells  us,  "  was  done  in  the  name 
and  for  the  sake  of  Jesus  Christ,  whom  we  were  taught  to 
regard  in  the  amiable  and  endearing  light  of  a  friend  and 
brother." 

Innocent  pastimes  mingled  with  daily  duties,  while  birth- 
day celebrations,  excursions  into  the  neighboring  country, 
and  visits  from  distinguished  strangers,  afforded  opportu- 
nities for  longer  relaxation  from  the  tasks  of  school. 

Over  all  these  were  flung  the  kindly  restraints  of  the 
abiding  presence  of  Jesus,  the  Lord,  and  a  perpetual  ac- 
knowledgment of  his  goodness  seemed  to  have  become 
the  natural  overflow  of  the  heart  towards  him,  as  the 
giver  of  every  good  gift. 

It  was  customary  for  the  boys  of  the  different  classes 
occasionally  to  take  tea  with  each  other.     At  the  close  of 


CHURCH   FESTIVALS    AT    FULNECK.  17 

supper,  they  formed  a  circle,  hand  in  hand,  and  sang  a 
hymn.  A  change  having  been  made,  one  day,  in  the  or- 
dinary beverage,  the  little  fellow  whose  lot  it  was  to  say 
grace  knelt  down,  — "  Oh  Lord,  bless  us  little  children," 
was  the  devout  utterance,  "  and  make  us  very  good !  We 
thank  thee  for  what  we  have  received.  Oh,  bless  this 
good  chocolate,  and  give  us  more  of  it ! "  A  petition,  we 
presume,  in  which  the  little  group  heartily  joined. 

The  festivals  of  the  church,  Good  Friday,  Palm  Sunday, 
Whitsunday,  and  Christmas,  with  their  stately  and  sig- 
nificant emblems,  were  sacredly  observed  at  Fulneck. 

The  chapel,  in  its  Christmas  adornings,  charmed  the  eyes 
of  the  children.  Evergreens  festooned  the  pulpit,  bearing 
in  front  a  scroll  fringed  with  fir  and  holly,  with  the  inscrip- 
tion, "Unto  us  a  child  is  born."  Precisely  at  five,  the 
organ  pealed  forth  its  harmonies,  the  congregation  arose, 
the  clergy  entered,  and  the  choir  sang  its  Christmas  an- 
them. Tea  was  then  handed  round,  and  children's  voices 
singing  the  touching  melody, 

"  Christ  the  Lord  —  the  Lord  most  glorious  — 
Now  is  born  —  oh,  shout  aloud," 

proclaimed  their  interest  in  the  great  transaction. 

"  I  shall  not  easily  forget,"  says  one,  formerly  a  pupil  at 
Fulneck,  "  the  boys'  sleeping-hall,  a  large  room  containing 
between  one  and  tAvo  hundred  beds.  It  was  usual  for  us 
to  meet  there  on  the  evening  prior  to  Easter  Sunday.  A 
pianoforte  was  taken,  for  the  occasion,  to  one  end  of  this 
immense  room ;  over  it  was  suspended  a  lantern,  which 
threw  a  dim  light  on  a  splendid  painting  of  a  dead  Christ, 
removed  from  the  Brethren's  house.  When  all  had  assem- 
bled, we  stood  for  a  few  moments  in  front  of  the  picture. 
Then  the  full-toned  piano,  accompanied  by  a  French  bugle, 
2* 


18  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

broke  the  silence  with  one  of  those  airs  which  for  ages 
have  been  used  in  the  Moravian  Church.  This  ceased  for 
a  moment,  and  we  heard  the  sweet  melody  whispering 
around  that  vast  hall,  the  whole  of  which  was  in  darkness, 
save  the  spot  where  we  were  gathered.  Again  we  mused 
on  the  painting,  and  were  almost  startled  by  the  breathless 
quiet  of  the  place.  The  music  recommenced,  and  we  sang 
that  fine  old  hymn  — 

4  Met  around  the  sacred  tomb, 
Friends  of  Jesus,  why  those  tears  ? ' 

"  The  next  morning  found  us  assembled  at  five  o'clock  in 
the  chapel,  joined  by  an  immense  crowd.  The  service 
opened  with  a  voluntary  on  the  organ,  —  the  congregation 
arose,  chanting  as  they  walked,  'The  Lord  is  risen  in- 
deed!' On  reaching  their  places,  the  Litany  commenced, 
the  responses  to  which  were  sung  by  the  choir  and  congre- 
gation. On  arriving  at  the  part  which  refers  to  the  church 
triumphant,  we  adjourned  to  the  burial-ground,  and  there 
finished  the  service  in  the  open  air. 

"  Those  only  who  have  witnessed  it,  can  form  any  notion 
of  its  solemnity.  The  congregation  formed  a  circle,  in  the 
centre  of  which  was  the  officiating  clergyman.  The  sun 
had  just  risen,  and  was  lighting  up  that  splendid  scenery, 
and  the  mists  of  the  night  were  rapidly  rolling  away.  In 
the  distance,  covering  the  hill,  were  magnificent  woods; 
over  us  the  morning  birds  carolled  their  early  matins  and 
then  soared  away. 

"  It  was  in  such  a  scene  we  offered  this  thrilling  petition 
to  heaven's  God :  — 

"  Minister.  —  'And  keep  us  in  everlasting  fellowship  with 
our  brethren,  and  our  sisters  (here  mentioning  the  names 
of  those  who  had  departed  since  the  preceding  Easter), 


CELEBRATION    OF    EASTER    SUNDAY.  19 

who  have  entered  into  the  joy  of  their  Lord,  and  whose 
bodies  are  buried  here ;  also  with  the  servants  and  hand- 
maids of  our  Church,  whom  thou  hast  called  home  within 
this  year ;  and  with  the  whole  church  triumphant ;  and 
grant  that  we  may  faithfully  rest  with  them  in  thy  pres- 
ence from  all  our  labors.  Amen.' 
"  Congregation. 

'  They  are  at  rest  in  lasting  bliss, 
Beholding  Christ  their  Saviour ; 
Our  humble  expectation  is, 
To  live  with  him  forever  ! ' 

"  This  verse  was  sung  by  the  vast  assembly,  echoing  along 
that  beautiful  valley,  and  mingling  with  the  hum  of  bees, 
the  ripple  of  the  waters,  the  music  of  the  wild  bird,  and, 
it  may  be,  with  the  minstrelsy  of  unseen  spirits.  I  have 
since  witnessed  the  religious  ceremonies  of  other  bodies ; 
and  although  it  has  been  mine  to  minister  at  the  altar  of 
another  communion,  I  must  confess  I  have  met  with 
nothing  so  solemn,  yet  elegantly  chaste,  as  these  services 
of  the  Brethren's  Church." 

While  these  scenes  could  hardly  fail  to  have  touched  the 
most  unappreciative,  upon  a  child  of  lively  and  tender  sus- 
ceptibilities they  awoke,  like  the  winds  sweeping  over  an 
air-harp,  wild  and  mysterious  music  in  the  soul. 

The  scenic  life  thus  clothing  those  solemn  truths,  which 
at  once  kindle  the  imagination  and  awe  the  passions,  gives 
a  pictured  vividness  to  the  objects  of  our  faith,  peculiarly 
fascinating  to  the  young.  Religious  emotion  is  excited, 
which,  though  not  necessarily  connected  with  moral  reno- 
vation, deepens  in  the  soul  its  sense  of  something  lost  and 
something  yearned  for,  —  its  heavenly  inheritance, — where 
peace  is  affrighted  by  no  sin  and  joy  knows  no  chill. 


20  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

Of  the  drift  of  his  child-life  at  Fulneck,  James  Mont- 
gomery afterwards  says :  — 

"  Here  while  I  roved,  a  heedless  boy, 
Here  while  through  paths  of  peace  I  ran, 
My  feet  were  vexed  with  puny  snares, 
My  bosom  stung  with  insect  cares ; 
But  ah !  what  light  and  little  things 
Are  childhood's  woes  !  —  they  break  no  rest! 
Like  dewdrops  on  the  skylark's  wings 
While  slumbering  on  his  grassy  nest, 
Gone  in  a  moment  when  he  springs 
To  meet  the  morn  with  open  breast, 
As  o'er  the  eastern  hills  her  banners  glow, 
And,  veiled  in  mist,  the  valley  sleeps  below. 

Like  him,  on  these  delightful  plains, 
I  taught,  with  fearless  voice, 
The  echoing  woods  to  sound  my  strains, 
The  mountains  to  rejoice. 
Hail !  to  the  trees,  beneath  whose  shade, 
Rapt  into  worlds  unseen,  I  strayed : 
Hail !  to  the  streams  that  purled  along 
In  hoarse  accordance  to  my  song  — 
My  song  that  poured  uncensured  lays 
Tuned  to  a  dying  Saviour's  praise, 
In  numbers  simple,  wild,  and  sweet, 
As  were  the  flowers  beneath  my  feet." 

Poet-land  already  loomed  upon  the  vision  of  the  boy : 
and  reverberations  of  its  far  off  melody  break  upon  his  lis- 
tening spirit. 

Will  the  old  Moravian  hymn-book,  with  its  quaint  lyrics, 
pilot  him  there,  or,  by  the  subtle  intuitions  of  genius,  will 
he  strike  out  a  new  track  and  claim  a  birthright  footing  to 
its  prerogatives  ? 


HIS   POETICAL    READINGS.  21 

Little  license  was  allowed  the  boys  at  Fulneck  for  gen- 
eral reading.  Indeed,  upon  this  point,  the  pupils  were 
fenced  in  by  severe  legislation,  bad  books  being  regarded 
by  the  Brethren  as  the  quickest  corrupters  of  good  morals. 

A  father  once  sent  his  son  a  small  volume  of  choice  selec- 
tions from  Milton,  Thomson,  and  Young,  unobjectionable 
associates  one  would  think ;  the  book,  however,  must  first 
pass  the  scrutiny  and  the  scissors  of  the  teachers,  when  it 
was  returned  to  the  owner,  so  carefully  pruned,  that 
many  passages  were  blotted  out  and  whole  leaves  were 
missing. 

Poetry,  nevertheless,  was  not  wholly  interdicted,  for  we 
find  one  of  the  masters,  on  a  warm  summer's  day,  betaking 
himself  with  his  class  to  the  fields,  and,  setting  aside  the 
regular  recitations,  entertaining  it  with  a  reading  from 
Blair's  "  Grave."  Most  of  the  boys  fell  asleep.  One  atten- 
tive listener,  at  least,  rewarded  the  indulgent  master.  Lit- 
tle James  Montgomery  gave  himself  up  to  the  charms  of 
the  hour;  and  such  suitableness  and  beauty  did  there 
seem  in  poet-numbers,  that  before  leaving  the  hedge-row 
delight  began  to  shape  itself  to  purpose,  and  with  pro- 
phetic eye  he  beheld  his  poem  one  day  scattering  on 
others  enjoyment  like  that  which  he  was  reaping.  Barred 
as  the  gates  of  Fulneck  were,  poems  now  and  then  scaled 
its  walls.  The  poet's  corner  of  a  village  newspaper  intro- 
duced the  new  Scotch  muse,  Robert  Burns.  Blackmore's 
"Prince  Alfred"  stirred  up  brave  thoughts  and  brilliant 
schemes, 

"  To  grace  this  latter  age  with  noble  deeds." 

Two  volumes  of  Cowper  came  to  hand ;  the  books,  how- 
ever, though  eagerly  read,  were  laid  aside  with  little  relish 
for  a  second  sitting.      Their  chaste  beauty  and  exquisite 


22  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

naturalness  found  little  favor  from  Master  James,  with 
tastes  moulded  by  the  mystic  element  and  enthusiastic 
rhapsodies  which  then  marked  the  Moravian  literature. 
It  required  the  juster  estimate  of  more  exact  culture  to 
discern  the  excellences  of  the  Bard  of  Olney,  which,  in 
time,  he  was  proud  to  acknowledge  and  admire. 

Stinted  as  was  the  intellectual  nutriment  craved  by  the 
boy,  and  much  as  there  undoubtedly  was  to  clip  the  soar- 
ings of  his  fancy,  the  poetic  temperament  will  yet  extract 
a  living  from  the  leanest  soil ;  and  foreshado wings  of  its 
life-work  will  flash  all  along  through  its  early  paths. 

And  so  we  find  him  rhyming,  inveterately  rhyming, 
rhyming  in  spite  of  himself,  jets  if  not  gems,  showing  the 
drift  of  his  inward  life. 

At  ten,  he  had  a  well  filled  volume  of  his  own  verses,  — 
gypsy  children,  we  may  well  believe  from  the  pious  strains, 
which  rose  morning,  midday,  and  at  vespers,  from  the 
altars  of  Fulneck. 

Night  often  found  his  mind  aglow  with  some  favorite 
theme,  nor  would  he  sleep  until  it  had  shaped  itself  to 
measures  pleasing  to  himself;  thus  wakefulness  became  a 
habit.  And  when  he  afterwards  so  graphically  tells  us  how 
his 

"  eyes  roll  in  irksome  darkness, 

And  the  lone  spirit  of  unrest 
At  conscious  midnight  haunts  his  breast, 
When  former  joys,  and  present  woes, 
And  future  fears  are  all  his  foes," 

we  can  readily  conceive  it  to  have  been  an  autobiographical 
reminiscence,  much  to  be  deplored. 

The  style  of  the  boy's  mind,  running  from  the  practical 
to  the  ideal,  more  given  to  reverie  than  to  study,  must 
needs,  we  think,  have  given  anxiety  to  the  sturdy  fathers 


MORAVIAN    MISSIONS.  23 

of  Fulneck.  His  French  and  German  were  likely  to  have 
fewer  charms  than  Kirkstall  Abbey,  a  fine  old  ruin  in  the 
neighborhood,  ivy-clad  ;  or  pleasanter  it  were,  to  people  the 
odd-shaped  fields  on  the  hill-side  opposite  the  school  with 
the  teemings  of  his  mind,  than  to  drill  it  to  the  regular 
beat  of  Latin  verbs,  or  torture  it  with  Greek  translations. 
Accordingly  we  find  a  notice  or  two  on  the  school  records, 
that  "  J.  M.  was  not  using  proper  diligence  in  his  studies, 
and  was  admonished  thereupon."  And  inasmuch  as  he 
was  destined  for  the  ministry,  we  may  suppose  this  lack  of 
industry  augured  ominously  for  the  future,  in  the  estimate 
of  his  guardians. 

The  parents  of  the  boy  were  not  near  either  by  their  per- 
sonal presence  or  by  frequent  letters  to  counsel  or  to  urge 
him  forward:  and  how  far  their  sympathizing  solicitude 
might  have  steadied  him  in  the  strait  path  marked  out  for 
him,  we  can  never  know.  When  he  was  twelve,  together 
they  visited  Fulneck,  bringing  their  two  younger  sons, 
Ignatius  and  Robert,  and  remained  three  months  at  the 
Settlement,  previous'  to  leaving  England  for  a  missionary 
life  in  the  West  Indies.  The  Moravian  missions  were 
among  the  first  attempts  of  Protestant  Christians  to  evan- 
gelize the  heathen ;  and  their  zealous  and  self-denying 
labors,  which  no  arctic  cold  could  freeze  and  no  tropic  heat 
could  wither,  make  a  shining  page  in  the  annals  of  Christian 
valor. 

"  Keep  our  doors  open  among  the  heathen,  and  open 
those  that  are  shut,"  is  a  petition  in  the  old  "  Church 
Litany  of  the  Brethren." 

"  Have  mercy  on  the  negroes,  savages,  slaves,  and  gyp- 
sies," was  not  merely  a  prayer  of  the  lip,  it  was  often  the 
burden  of  a  lifetime. 

And  where  Greenland  hailed, 


24  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

"  from  afar 
Through  polar  storms,  the  light  of  Jacob's  star," 

and   the   everlasting   gospel   smiled   on   the   Red  men  of 

"  Ohio's  streams  and  of  Missouri's  flood, 
And  the  sweet  tones  of  pity  touched  his  ears, 
And  mercy  bathed  his  bosom  with  her  tears," 

"the  poor  Negro  scorned  of  all  mankind,"  —  the  beautiful 
individuality  of  the  invocation,  "  Bless  our  congregations 
gathered  from  the  Negroes,  Greenlanders,  Indians,  Hotten- 
tots, and  Esquimaux  ;  keep  them  as  the  apple  of  thine  eye," 
carries  with  it  all  the  personal  and  endearing  intimacy  of 
the  Christian  name. 

A  happy  three  months  to  the  re-united  family  at  Fulneck. 
The  parting  counsels  of  these  parents,  how  tenderly  faithful ! 
The  yearnings  of  parental  fondness  on  one  side,  the  soldier- 
call  of  duty  on  the  other.  The  stormy  waters  must  soon 
part  parents  and  children  ;  their  earthly  journey  may  seem 
long,  very  long,  and  begirt  with  perils ;  but  the  path  to 
heaven  is  short,  and  bright  with  the  beckoning  glories  of 
heaven,  —  there  may  all  meet,  a  re-united  family  for  ever- 
more, among  the  Redeemed.  This  is  the  burden  of  the 
pastor's  heart. 

December  2nd,  1783,  Rev.  John  Montgomery  and  his 
excellent  wife  again  take  up  their  pilgrim's  staff,  and 
leaving  their  sons  in  England  set  sail  for  Barbadoes.  The 
benediction  of  the  Brethren  follows  them. 

"  How  precious  the  work  prosecuted  at  such  cost ! " 
This  conviction  lay  far  behind,  blurred  by  many  tears. 
Perhaps  the  children  were  scarcely  conscious  of  it  then,  but 
it  seemed  to  have  been  a  golden  thread  in  their  lives  after- 
wards. 


CHAPTER  II. 

SCHOOL-LIFE  AT  FULNECK —  RUNNING  AWAY  —  HIS  JOURNEY — CON- 
SENT OF  MORAVIAN  FRIENDS  —  CLERKSHIP  —  HIS  EARLY  LOVE  — 
GOING  TO  LONDON, 

.  Lord  Monboddo,  a  learned  and  eccentric  Scottish  peer, 
once  visited  the  school  at  Fulneck,  to  whom  the  older  and 
more  gifted  scholars  were  introduced ;  but  little  heed  did 
he  seem  to  pay,  until  the  bishop  said :  —  "  Here,  my  lord, 
is  one  of  your  own  countrymen,"  bringing  forward  James 
Montgomery,  who,  indeed,  had  but  just  gained  his  birth- 
right. The  judge  started,  and  brandishing  a  huge  horse- 
whip over  the  boy's  head,  cried  out :  "  I  hope  he  will  take 
care  that  his  country  shall  never  be  ashamed  of  him." 
"This,"  said  James,  many  years  afterwards,  "I  never 
forgot ;  nor  shall  I  forget  it  while  I  live.  I  have,  indeed, 
endeavored  so  to  act  hitherto,  that  my  country  might 
never  have  cause  to  be  ashamed  of  me,  nor  will  I,  on  my 
part,  ever  be  ashamed  of  her." 

However  his  country  were  likely  to  feel,  it  is  certain  his 
teachers,  if  not  ashamed  of  him,  were  disappointed  in  him. 
Perhaps  lie  did  not  immediately  begin  to  feel  the  inspira- 
tion of  the  old  peer's  hopes. 

Admonition  did  not  amend  his  ways.  No  growing  dili- 
gence gave  promise  for  the  future.  School  tasks  he  under- 
took with  little  zest  and  less  success;  and  reluctantly  his 
3 


26  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

friends  abandoned  the  prospect  of  beholding  him  some  day 
in  the  ministry. 

"What  was  to  be  done  with  the  dallying  boy? — a  perplex- 
ing question,  debated  over  many  an  unpromising  subject 
since  then ;  and  all  the  more  perplexing,  if  not  unpromising, 
because  the  difficulty  lay  more  in  lack  of  persistency  and 
purpose  than  any  positive  moral  obliquities. 

"What  was  done  ?  "  It  was  determined,"  runs  the  school 
record,  "  that  J.  Montgomery  remain  in  the  school  and  be 
prepared  for  a  teacher  in  the  same :  when  this  was  told 
him  he  seemed  to  be  pleased  with  it." 

A  year  passes,  and  how  fares  it  with  the  lad?  The 
pleasure  with  which  he  received  the  announcement  of  his 
change  of  destiny,  and  the  stimulus  consequent  thereon, 
have  faded  away,  and  another  record  in  the  school  diary 
informs  us  that  as  "  J.  M.,  notwithstanding  repeated  admo- 
nitions, has  not  been  more  attentive,  it  was  resolved  to  put 
him  to  a  business,  at  least  for  a  time." 

Do  Ave  not  in  our  day  reverse  the  case,  and  the  less  we 
know  what  to  do  with  a  bov,  the  longer  send  him  to  school  ? 
—  school  often  being  a  sort  of  quarantine  ground,  where 
boys  and  girls  are  suffered  to  stay  until  it  is  ascertained 
whether  they  can  safely  shift  for  themselves. 

Boys  stimulated  to  study  by  the  competitions  of  school, 
and  provoked  to  unusual  effort  by  strong  but  inferior 
motives,  often  fall  behind  and  disappoint  expectation  when 
those  motives  have  ceased  to  operate ;  so,  on  the  contrary, 
those  in  whom  there  is  much  to  be  developed,  often  more 
slowly  come  to  comprehend  themselves ;  and  a  life  of  keen 
mental  activity  and  the  gathering  up  of  great  quantities 
of  raw  material,  to  be  wrought  into  a  symmetrical  and 
sinewy  manhood,  may  often  lie  behind  the  listless  glances 
and  laggard  movements  of  an  idle  boy. 


RUNNING   AWAY.  27 

How  was  it  with  Montgomery  ?  Disappointing  the 
favorite  projects  of  his  friends,  and  disclosing  no  marked 
preference  towards  any  of  the  common  industries  of  life, 
his  bosom  yet  thrilled  with  unutterable  longings,  and  his 
mind  was  filled  with  day-dreams  of  a  brilliant  future. 

Like  Javan,  in  his  "  World  before  the  Flood," 

"  his  fancy  longed  to  view, 


•     The  world  which  yet  by  fame  alone  he  knew ; 
The  joys  of  freedom  were  his  daily  theme, 
Glory  the  secret  of  his  midnight  dream ;  — 
That  dream  he  told  not,  though  his  heart  would  ache." 

Plainly  school  was  no  longer  the  place  for  him.  So 
thought  the  Fulneck  fathers,  and  he  was  apprenticed  to  a 
worthy  man  of  the  Moravian  fraternity,  who  kept  a  retail 
shop  in  Mirficld,  a  neighboring  hamlet. 

Here  he  remained  about  a  year  and  a  half,  selling  bread, 
writing  poetry,  and  playing  with  a  hautboy,  —  the  latter 
engrossing  the  chief  share  of  his  attention.  The  only  labor 
which,  perhaps,  survives  this  period,  is  his  paraphrase  of  the 
113th  Psalm,  which  the  Archbishop  of  York  was  pleased 
to  incorporate  soon  after  its  appearance  in  public,  years 
later,  into  a  collection  of  sacred  lyrics  for  the  use  of  his 
diocese.  Which  gave  it  celebrity,  its  poetry  or  its  patron- 
age, it  were  perhaps  invidious  to  inquire. 

What  next  ?  "  Having  very  little  to  do  but  to  amuse 
myself,"  Montgomery  tells  us,  "  I  grew  more  unhappy  and 
discontented  than  ever ;  and  in  an  evil  hour  I  determined 
to  break  loose  and  see  the  world.  I  was  not  bound  to  my 
master,  and  knew  that  if  I  left  him  the  Moravians  could  not 
compel  me  to  return,  though  I  was  only  sixteen.  You  will 
smile  and  wonder,  too,  when  I  tell  you  that  I  was  such  a 


28  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

fool  as  to  run  away  from  my  master,  with  the  clothes  on  my 
back,  a  single  change  of  linen,  and  three  and  sixpence  in  my 
pocket.  I  had  jnst  got  a  new  suit  of  clothes,  but  as  I  had 
been  only  a  short  time  with  my  good  master  I  did  not  think 
my  little  services  had  earned  them.  I  therefore  left  him 
in  my  old  ones,  and  thus  at  the  age  of  sixteen  set  out  to 
begin  the  world."  So  reasoned  and  acted  Montgomery; 
like  many  others  before  and  since,  to  whom  breaking 
away  from  the  fencings  of  apprenticeship  or  home  has  been 
by  a  sort  of  inward  constraint ;  not  tempted  by  vicious 
inclinations,  or  seduced  by  wicked  companionships,  but  from 
a  force  from  within,  blind,  yet  imperative,  urging  on 
towards  another  sphere  and  a  more  genial  atmosphere, 
where  the  life-work  of  the  man  was  found  and  done. 

Though  the  act  be  an  act  of  impatient  emancipation  from 
uncongenial  employment  or  mistaken  views,  it  is  almost 
always  regarded  by  a  man  of  moral  culture,  in  after  years, 
with  regret  and  sorrow.  The  perils  of  the  step  are  then 
seen;  the  wounds  inflicted  upon  kind  if  injudicious  friends 
are  then  felt ;  the  rude  uprooting  of  affections,  to  be  with- 
ered perhaps  before  another  planting,  is  all  realized ;  and 
though  the  end  may  have  sanctified  the  means,  and  he, 
being  led  in  a  way  he  knew  not,  was  led  graciously  on,  yet 
this  cannot  altogether  chase  away  the  remorseful  memories 
which  so  often  linger  around  the  first  rash  step. 

The  mournful  hazards  of  such  a  course  are  thus  pictured 
by  the  poet  in  after  years. 

"  A  star  from  heaven  once  went  astray, 

A  planet  beautiful  and  bright ; 
Which  to  the  sun's  diviner  ray 

Owed  all  its  beauty  and  its  light ; 
Yet  deemed,  when  self-sufficient  grown, 
Its  borrowed  glory  all  its  own. 


HIS   JOURNEY.  29 

A  secret  impulse  urged  Its  course, 

As  by  a  demon  power  possessed, 
With  rash,  unheeding,  headlong  force, 

It  wildly  wandered,  seeking  rest ; 
Till  far  beyond  the  solar  range 
It  underwent  a  fearful  change. 

Dim  as  it  went  its  lustre  grew, 

Till  utter  darkness  wrapt  it  round, 
And  slow  and  slower  as  it  flew, 

Failure  of  warmth  and  strength  it  found ; 
Concealed  into  a  globe  of  ice, 
It  seemed  cast  out  from  Paradise. 

At  length  amid  the  abyss  of  space, 
Beyond  attraction's  marvellous  spell, 

It  lost  the  sense  of  time  and  place, 
And  thought  itself  invisible  : 

Though  suns  and  systems  rolled  afar, 

Without  companions  went  that  star." 

Montgomery,  with  his  pack  on  his  back,  and  his  poetry 
in  his  pocket,  takes  silent  leave  of  Mirfield,  on  the  morning 
of  the  19th  of  June,  1789,  and  starts  on  the  journey  of  life 
alone ;  the  great  world  all  before  him, 

"  where  to  choose 


His  seat  of  rest,  and  Providence  his  guide." 

How  or  where  to  steer  his  course  he  has  no  definite  idea. 
His  aim  was  to  "  go  south,"  as  adventurers  of  our  day  "  go 
west,"  —  London,  probably,  looming  up  in  the  distance,  by 

"  Taste  and  wealth  proclaimed 
The  fairest  capital  of  all  the  world," — 

the  Mecca  of  many  an  adventurous  poet  on  his  pilgrimage 
to  fame. 

On  he  trudged,  by  hedge-row  and  dusty  road,  that  quiet 


30  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

Sabbath  day,  making  this  turn  or  that  according  to  no  clear 
plan,  until,  at  the  close  of  day,  he  found  himself  at  Doncas- 
ter,  —  surely  an  unusual  way  for  Montgomery  to  be  spend- 
ing holy  time.  Of  the  incidents  of  this  day  and  the  next 
nothing  is  known ;  if  sometimes,  parched  and  fainting  under 
the  noonday  sun  of  June,  he  casts  a  long,  lingering  look 
behind,  he  does  not  tell  us ;  if  he  sometimes  thought  of 
parents  far  away  and  brothers  left  behind,  the  tenderness 
does  not  unman  him.  On  he  bravely  went,  and  the  second 
night  found  him  quartered  at  a  small  inn  in  Wentworth. 
There  sat  the  wayfarer,  with  his  bundle  beside  him  on  the 
bench,  when  another  traveller  entered,  a  young  man,  and 
called  for  a  pint  of  ale.  The  two  exchanged  civilities. 
From  a  bow  grew  a  bargain.  In  the  course  of  talk,  Hunt, 
for  that  was  the  young  man's  name,  told  Montgomery  his 
father  wanted  help,  and  advised  him  to  come  over  to 
Wath,  a  neighboring  village,  the  next  morning,  and  offer 
his  services.  The  homeless  lad  did  so.  To  the  shopkeeper 
he  frankly  disclosed  his  history,  who  willingly  promised 
to  hire  him,  provided  the  consent  of  his  late  master  and  his 
Moravian  guardians  could  be  gained.  Counselled  by  him  to 
write  immediately,  James  returned  to  the  Wentworth  Inn 
to  write  and  to  await  the  answer.  But  how  to  pass  the 
interval  ? 

Wentworth  is  a  small  hamlet,  under  the  ancestral  wing 
of  "Wentworth  House,  the  broad  domain  of  Earl  Fitzwil- 
liam,  whose  courteousness  and  generosity  made  him  the 
praise  of  the  country  around.  The  poet-boy  betook  him- 
self to  his  room  and  carefully  transcribed  a  copy  of  his 
verses  for  presentation  to  the  earl,  who  was  then  at  home. 
With  a  fluttering  heart  he  entered  the  park,  and  lingered 
about  the  daily  haunts  of  its  noble  master.  They  met : 
the  boy  with  a  modest  dignity  placed  his  humble  offering 


CONSENT    OF    MORAVIAN    FRIENDS.  31 

in  the  kind  earl's  hand,  and  the  earl,  stopping,  read  the 
poem,  and  rewarded  its  blushing  author  with  encouraging 
words,  it  may  be,  but  what  was  far  more  available  in  the 
present  crisis  of  his  affairs,  a  gold  guinea.  And  no  guinea 
afterwards,  we  venture  to  say,  ever  possessed  the  value  of 
this.  Here  was  patronage  and  profit  on  the  first  trial. 
How  did  it  justify  his  estimate  of  the  little  manuscript, 
often,  no  doubt,  slighted,  and  regarded  with  a  jealous  eye, 
by  the  practical  fathers  of  Fulneck.  How  did  it  come,  a 
heaven-sent  supply  to  his  empty  pockets. 

Let  us  hear  the  result  of  his  appeal  to  his  friends  in  his 
own  words :  "  When  I  had  been  on  my  travels  about  four 
days,  I  then  wrote,  as  I  always  intended  to  do,  to  my  mas- 
ter ;  indeed,  I  left  a  letter  behind  me,  declaring  in  plain 
terms  the  uneasiness  of  my  mind,  and  saying  that  he 
should  soon  hear  from  me.  I  wrote  to  him  for  a  char- 
acter or  recommendation  to  a  situation  which  I  had  heard 
of;  conscious  that  no  moral  guilt  could  be  laid  to  my 
charge,  and  that  in  all  my  dealings  I  had  served  him  with 
the  strictest  integrity.  My  master  laid  my  letter  before 
the  council  of  Moravian  ministers,  who  met  at  Fulneck  to 
regulate  the  affairs  of  their  society,  and  they  unanimously 
agreed  to  write  any  recommendation  which  I  might  re- 
quire, if  I  obstinately  persisted  in  my  resolution  to  leave 
them ;  but  instructed  him  to  make  me  any  offers,  and,  if 
possible,  to  bring  me  back  again.  He  came  to  me  in  per- 
son, where  I  waited  for  an  answer.  I  was  so  affected  by 
his  appearance  that  I  ran  to  meet  him  in  the  inn  yard; 
and  he  was  so  overwhelmed  with  tenderness  at  the  sight 
of  me,  that  we  clasped  each  other's  arms  as  he  sat  on 
horseback,  and  remained  weeping  without  speaking  a  word 
for  some  time. 

"  It  required  all  my  resolution  to  resist  his  entreaties  and 


32  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

persuasions  to  return,  but  I  at  length  overcame ;  and  when 
he  left  me,  the  next  day,  he  gave  a  very  handsome  written 
character,  and  also  called  on  my  future  employer  to  recom- 
mend me.  He  also  supplied  me  with  money,  and  sent  my 
clothes  and  other  things  which  I  had  left  behind." 

An  interview  and  result  surely  creditable  to  all  parties. 
The  charge  of  ingratitude  and  want  of  confidence  might 
have  been  easily  scared  up  by  less  candid  and  judicious 
guardians;  and  one  is  at  a  loss  which  most  to  admire, 
the  frank  integrity  and  inflexible  firmness  of  the  fugitive, 
or  the  forgiving  tenderness  of  his  abandoned  friends. 

This  was  the  turning  point  in  his  life.  He  had  broken 
open  the  fold-gate,  and  was  now  out  on  the  rough  highway 
of  life. 

"  Had  I  taken  the  right  instead  of  the  left  hand  road  to 
Wakefield,"  he  says  long  afterwards,  "  had  I  not  crossed 
over,  I  knew  not  why,  to  Wentworth,  and  had  not  Joshua 
Hunt  noticed  me  there,  it  is  quite  certain  that  not  a  single 
occurrence  of  my  future  being,  j>erhaps  not  a  single  thought, 
would  have  been  the  same.  The  direction  of  life's  after 
current  would  have  been  entirely  changed,  whether  for  the 
better  or  the  worse,  who  can  tell?  I  only  know  that  I  did 
wrong  in  running  away.'''' 

Montgomery  is,  then,  behind  Mr.  Hunt's  counter,  a  re- 
spectable grocer  of  Wath,  selling  flour,  shoes,  calicoes,  and 
wares  of  all  sorts,  to  the  adjoining  neighborhoods.  It 
would,  perhaps,  be  difficult  to  discern  any  capital  advantage 
in  the  change  made,  save  in  his  own  conscious  sense  of 
freedom.  He  is  no  longer  under  tutelage ;  he  is  his  own 
master ;  and  sufficiently  master  of  himself  not  to  inaugurate 
his  freedom  by  anything  which  might  cause  repentance  and 
shame  hereafter. 

Wath,  called  the  "  Queen  of  villages "  by  the  partial 


HIS   EARLY   LOVE.  S3 

affection  of  its  inhabitants,  rises  pleasantly  on  a  fertile  val- 
ley, about  three  miles  from  Wentworth  House.  It  was 
quiet  and  rustic  in  the  days  of  Montgomery's  sojourn, 
with  many  legends  of  the  old  past  nestling  in  its  nooks 
and  crannies.  A  maypole  rose  on  the  village  green,  the 
castings  of  a  bell  foundry  rippled  the  smooth  flow  of  ordi- 
nary life,  and  a  monthly  magazine  distinguished  it  above 
all  the  villages  of  England  for  literary  enterprise. 

The  new  clerk,  we  may  conjecture,  made  small  stir  in 
the  village  circles,  for  he  assiduously  devoted  himself  to 
business,  and  spent  his  leisure  hours  with  his  books  and 
pen.  Indeed,  his  grave  and  serious  demeanor  invited  little 
familiarity  from  the  gay,  while  his  habitual  reserve  inter- 
posed barriers  between  him  and  those  whose  society  and 
sympathies  would  have  proved  a  social  profit  to  him. 

According  to  the  chronology  of  a  little  poem,  if  it  in- 
deed be  autobiographical,  "YVath  must  be  set  down  as  the 
scene  of  an  early  and  only  love.  The  identity  of  the  hero- 
ine, who  gives  name  to  the  poem  supposed  to  disclose  the 
secrets  of  his  heart,  has  sorely  puzzled  his  friends.  Of 
"Hannah"  the  poet  himself  gave  no  clue.  Village  tradi- 
tion points  to  Miss  Turner,  of  Swathe  Hall,  the  young 
mistress  of  a  fine  old  family  mansion  between  Wath  and 
Barnsley,  where  he  sometimes  visited. 

Thus  sings  he :  — 

"  At  fond  sixteen  my  roving  heart 
Was  pierced  hy  Love's  delightful  dart ; 
Keen  transport  throbbed  through  every  vein, — 
I  never  felt  so  sweet  a  pain." 

After  an  interval  of  fluttering  hopes  and  fears,  and  all 
the  changeful  play  of  passionate  emotion, —  an  interval,  how 
long  we  cannot  determine, 


34  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

"  When  sick  at  heart  with  hope  delayed, 
Oft  the  dear  image  of  that  maid 
Glanced,  like  a  rainbow,  o'er  his  mind 
And  promised  happiness  behind." 
Then 

"  The  storm  blew  o'er,  and  in  my  breast 
The  Halcyon,  Peace,  rebuilt  her  nest ; 
The  storm  blew  o'er,  and  clear  and  mild 
The  sea  of  youth  and  pleasure  smiled. 

'T  was  on  the  merry  morn  of  May, 
To  Hannah's  cot  I  took  my  way  ; 
My  eager  hopes  were  on  the  wing, 
Like  swallows  sporting  in  the  spring. 

Then  as  I  climbed  the  mountains  o'er, 
I  lived  my  wooing  days  once  more  ; 
And  fancy  sketched  my  married  lot, 
My  wife,  my  children,  and  my  cot. 

I  saw  the  village  steeple  rise,  — 
My  soul  sprang,  sparkling,  to  my  eyes ; 
The  rural  bells  rang  sweet  and  clear,  — 
My  fond  heart  listened  in  mine  ear. 

I  reached  the  hamlet ;  —  all  was  gay; 

I  love  a  rustic  holiday  ; 

I  met  a  wedding  —  stept  aside ; 

It  passed  —  my  Hannah  was  the  bride ! 

There  is  a  grief  that  cannot  feel ; 
It  leaves  a  wound  that  will  not  heal ; 
My  heart  grew  cold  —  it  felt  not  then ; 
When  shall  it  cease  to  feel  again  ?  " 

This  affair  of  the  heart  must  have  had  its  beginning 
somewhere  at  this  period;  its  unhappy  sequel  may  have 
been  several  years  beyond.  Although  the  poem  is  believed 
by  his  English   biographers  to  have  been   "founded  on 


GOING    TO    LONDON.  35 

fact,"  from  all  we  know  of  Montgomery  lie  seems  to  us 
the  last  person  to  have  made  himself  the  hero  of  such  a 
tale.  This  early  disappointment  may,  indeed,  account  for 
the  single  life  which  he  led,  eminently  suited  as  he  was, 
from  his  shyness  of  general  society,  and  his  strong  local 
and  personal  attachments,  to  enjoy  the  "social  sweetness" 
of  married  life. 

Montgomery's  first  stay  at  Wath  was  a  year's  length ; 
when  he  formed  the  acquaintance  of  Mr.  Brameld,  the  vil- 
lage bookseller  of  Swinton,  in  whose  humble  shop  the  only 
evenings  which  he  spent  from  home  were  passed.  Here 
ambitious  hopes  Avere  kindled.  Here  the  poet  found  an 
admiring  auditor ;  one  who  could  not  only  appreciate  ge- 
nius, but  find  it  a  market.  Brameld  had  dealings  with 
London  booksellers,  and  with  many  a  scrap  of  successful 
authorship  did  he  fire  the  enthusiasm  of  the  young  clerk  : 
unrequited  labor,  disappointed  expectations,  hungry,  home- 
less authorship  begging  bread  in  London,  could  not  dampen, 
but  only  add  fuel  to  the  flame.  A  volume  of  poems  was 
prepared,  which  Brameld  forwarded  to  Paternoster  Row, 
followed  in  a  few  days  by  the  young  author  himself.  Mr. 
Hunt  parted  with  his  faithful  servant  unwillingly  enough, 
less  sanguine,  perhaps,  of  his  success.  In  the  family  Mont- 
gomery seems  to  have  met  with  the  same  friendship  which 
marked  his  former  homes,  and  which,  though  it  could  not 
woo  him  to  stay,  strewed  his  way  with  grateful  remem- 
brances. 


CHAPTER    III. 

MISSIONARY  EXPERIENCE  —  DISCOURAGING  OCCURRENCES  —  DEATH  OF 
HIS  PARENTS  —  ARRIVAL  IN  LONDON  —  HIS  WANT  OF  SUCCESS  —  CON- 
TEMPORANEOUS  GENIUS  —  NEW   SCHOOLS   OF  POETRY. 

While  the  son  is  pitching  his  tent  here  and  there  in  his 
wanderings  for  the  Promised  Rest,  his  parents  are  toiling 
under  a  burning  sun,  and  in  face  of  difficulties  grim  enough 
to  daunt  the  stoutest  faith,  for  the  spiritual  emancipation  of 
the  poor  Negro  in  the  West  Indies, 

Their  original  destination  was  Barbadoes,  afterwards 
changed  to  Tobago,  at  the  urgent  solicitation  of  a  planter, 
anxious  for  the  Christian  instruction  of  his  own  slaves,  and 
promising  his  influence  to  befriend  the  mission. 

In  August,  1789,  the  missionary  and  his  wife  visited  the 
island,  whose  moral  desolations  appealed  strongly  for  their 
stay. 

"  Attended  the  usual  Sunday  service  in  the  town,  with 
Mr.  Hamilton's  family,"  say  they.  "  As  yet  no  church  has 
been  built  in  the  island,  and  divine  service  is  performed  in 
the  town-house.  Adjoining  to  this  is  the  negro  market,  and 
the  noise  they  make  during  the  service  is  such  that  hardly 
one  sentence  of  the  discourse  can  be  understood.  About  a 
thousand  negroes  are  generally  in  the  market-place,  and  I 
only  saw  one  at   the  service.     In  the  evening   gave  an 


MISSIONARY    EXPERIENCE.  37 

exhortation  to  Mr.  Hamilton's  negroes.  As  this  is  done  in 
the  dining-room,  and  in  the  presence  of  the  family,  the 
negroes  are  kept  in  good  order." 

"  During  the  following  days,"  says  Mr.  Montgomery,  "  I 
paid  some  visits  to  the  negroes,  but  found  not  one  who 
showed  the  least  desire  to  be  converted.  They  all  ruin 
themselves  in  soul  and  body  by  the  same  sins  and  abomina- 
tions that  prevail  in  the  other  islands,  and  their  whole 
minds  seem  absorbed  in  them. 

"  We  received  about  this  time  letters  from  the  Synod  of 
the  Brethren,  informing  us  that  it  had  been  resolved  to  begin 
a  mission  in  Tobago,  and  that  we  were  appointed  to  enter 
upon  it.  God  our  Saviour  knows  our  weakness  and  ina- 
bility; but  in  reliance  upon  him  we  have  accepted  the 
appointment,  and  commend  ourselves  and  the  poor  negroes 
in  this  island  to  the  prayers  of  all  our  brethren  everywhere." 

The  French  authorities  of  the  island  seem  to  have 
received  the  wrorthy  couple  with  great  friendliness. 

On  their  second  coming,  for  a  permanent  residence,  "  As 
soon  as  the  governor  heard  our  names,"  they  tell  us,  "  he 
gave  orders  that  we  should  be  brought  on  shore  immedi- 
ately, and  sent  a  soldier  to  conduct  us  to  his  house.  He 
came  to  meet  us,  took  me  by  the  hand,  and  assured  me,  by 
his  interpreter,  that  he  greatly  rejoiced  at  our  being  at  last 
arrived  to  settle,  and  should  be  glad  to  render  us  all  the 
services  in  his  power.  Our  goods  were  not  examined  :  the 
officers  placed  on  board  for  that  purpose  suffered  them  to 
pass  free.  The  word  of  Scripture  appointed  for  this  day 
was,  cIIe  shall  give  his  angels  charge  over  thee,  to  keep 
thee  in  all  thy  ways ; '  and  we  experienced  a  gracious 
fulfilment  of  this  promise,  even  in  behalf  of  us,  his  poor 
children." 

Political  disturbances,  a  mutiny  in  the  French  garrison, 
4 


38  LIFE   OF    MONTGOMERY. 

the  conflagration  of  a  greater  part  of  the  town,  and  the  fear 
of  a  negro  insurrection,  for  a  time  barred  all  missionary 
labor,  and  self-preservation  swallowed  up  the  beneficent 
plans  of  the  planters. 

"  You  may  easily  suppose,"  writes  the  missionary  home, 
"  that  these  circumstances  occasioned  a  general  terror ;  for 
no  one  knew  what  hour  he  might  lose  life  and  fortune. 
Both  whites  and  blacks  kept  strict  watch  every  night. 
During  this  dreadful  period  we  looked  confidently  to  our 
gracious  and  Almighty  God  and  Saviour,  as  helpless  chil- 
dren, and,  believing  he  has  sent  us  hither,  offered  up  prayers 
and  supplications  to  him  in  behalf  of  ourselves  and  the 
island,  that  he  would  in  due  time  silence  the  storm,  dispel 
all  darkness,  and  cause  the  light  of  his  precious  gospel  to 
shine  in  the  hearts  of  the  poor  negroes.  We  felt  his  peace 
amid  the  tumult,  and  put  our  trust  under  the  shadow  of  his 
wings.  To  look  out  for  a  settlement  in  the  present  crisis  is 
impossible,  and  no  house  could  be  procured  with  safety." 

The  storm  at  length  lulling,  a  house  was  obtained,  to 
which  they  removed  from  the  hospitable  mansion  of  Mr. 
Hamilton,  through  whose  urgent  solicitations  the  Brethren 
sent  them  thither. 

"  The  texts  appointed  for  the  day  on  which  we  began  our 
housekeeping  as  missionaries,"  say  they,  "  were  remarkably 
suitable.  '  He  bringeth  them  unto  their  desired  haven  ; 
therefore  let  them  exalt  him  in  the  congregation  of  the 
people.'  '  He  which  hath  begun  a  good  work  in  you,  will 
perforin  it  until  the  day  of  Jesus  Christ.' " 

So  are  the  children  of  God  fed  with  Living  Manna,  until 
"  their  paths,"  though  struck  in  a  parched  wilderness, 
"  drop  fatness." 

Of  the  hindrances  which  stared  them  in  the  face  they 
tell  us ;  "  Between  our  house  and  the  town  is  a  plain  along 


DISCOURAGING    OCCURRENCES.  39 

the  sea-coast,  upon  which  all  kinds  of  diversion  are  practised 
on  a  Sunday  afternoon.  All  the  negroes  who  would  come 
to  us  from  the  town  must  pass  close  by  this  place ;  and 
thus  it  seems  as  if  Satan  had  pitched  his  camp  opposite  to 
us,  and  would  not  suffer  any  one  to  pass  to  hear  the  gospel." 

In  spite  of  discouragements,  the  missionaries  began  their 
labors  with  unflinching  zeal,  visiting  the  plantations,  preach- 
ing, instructing,  counselling,  as  time  and  opportunity  offered. 
Cabin  and  hall  were  alike  opened  to  them. 

But  the  season  seems  to  have  been  attended  with  unusual 
disaster.  In  a  few  weeks  one  of  those  hurricanes  broke 
over  the  island,  which  carry  such  swift  and  sudden  desola-. 
tion  over  land  and  sea.  Vessels  were  driven  ashore  ;  sugar 
cane  and  sugar  works  melted  before  the  blast ;  houses 
were  levelled ;  and  men,  women,  and  children  were  more  or 
less  injured  by  the  flying  rafters  and  drenching  rains.  Mrs. 
Montgomery  was  ill  at  the  time,  and  in  consequence  of 
exposure  to  the  peltings  of  this  pitiless  storm  her  recovery 
was  retarded  ;  but  of  personal  sufferings  the  husband  makes 
little  account  in  his  letter  home,  summing  up,  at  the  date 
of  September  6th,  1790,  the  results  of  his  first  quarter's 
labors  on  the  island. 

"  I  have  not  been  able,  hitherto,  to  gain  the  attention  of 
the  town  negroes ;  I  shall  therefore  direct  myself  more  and 
more  to  the  plantation  negroes,  and  Mr.  Hamilton  has 
kindly  offered  to  procure  a  house  for  this  purpose.  Though 
many  gentlemen  promised  their  aid  in  supporting  the  mis- 
sion, yet  I  plainly  perceive  the  burden  will  fall  chiefly  upon 
Mr.  Hamilton.  Some  of  those  who  subscribed  to  the  paper 
sent  to  the  Synod  have  left  the  island ;  others  are  dead. 
Some  think  that  the  Revolution  in  France  has  put  an  end 
to  nil  success,  and  discontinue  their  subscriptions  ;  others 
have   become   discouraged  by  the  misfortunes  that  have 


40  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

lately  befallen  them.  Some  who  formerly  gave  me  pressing 
invitations  to  preach  on  their  estates,  never  mention  a  word 
of  it  now  ;  but  our  greatest  grief  is,  that  we  have  not  as  yet 
found  a  single  soul  that  seeks  a  Saviour.'' 

Dark  as  the  picture  is,  darker  shadows  fall  over  it,  when, 
two  months  later,  Mary,  the  devoted  wife,  leaves  her  hus- 
band alone. 

She  died  on  the  23d  of  October.  And  so  gentle  was  her 
leave-taking,  so  sweetly  leaned  the  bereaved  one  upon  the 
Unseen  Arm,  that  an  English  clergyman,  who,  with  the 
planter,  stood  by  the  bedside  of  the  dying  Christian,  invol- 
untarily ejaculated,  "  God  is  truly  present  here !  " 

A  snatch  of  poetry  from  their  gifted  son,  thus  groups, 
years  afterwards,  the  sad  events  of  this  brief  missionary  pil- 
grimage : 

"  My  parents  dwelt  a  little  while 

Upon  a  small  Atlantic  isle, 

Where  the  poor  pagan  Negro  broke 

His  heart  beneath  the  Christian's  yoke. 

Him  to  new  life  in  vain  they  called, 

By  Satan  more  than  man  enthralled, 

Deaf  to  the  voice  that  said,  '  Be  free/ 

Blind  to  the  light  of  Truth  was  he. 
Ere  long,  rebellion  scared  the  land 

With  noonday  sword,  and  midnight  brand ; 

The  city  from  its  centre  burned, 

Till  ocean's  waves  the  fire-flood  turned : 

Then  came  a  hurricane,  —  as  all 

Heaven's  arch,  like  Dagon's  house,  would  fall, 

And  crush,  'midst  one  wild,  wailing  cry, 

Earth  in  the  ruins  of  the  sky. 

Beneath  their  humble  cottage-roof, 

By  lowliness  made  tempest  proof, 

AVhile  wind,  rain,  lightning,  raged  around, 

And  tumbling  mansions  shook  the  ground; 


DEATH    OF   HIS   PARENTS.  41 

"While  rafters  through  the  air  were  borne, 

And  trees  were  from  their  roots  uptorn ; 

Vessels  affrighted  sought  the  strand, 

And  ploughed  long  furrows  on  the  land ;  — 

My  father  bowed  his  aching  head 

About  my  mother's  dying  bed ; 

From  lip  to  lip,  from  heart  to  heart, 

Passed  the  few  parting  words  — '  "We  part !' 

But  echoed  back,  though  unexpressed, 

'  We  meet  again  ! '  —  rose  on  each  breast : 

Amidst  the  elemental  strife, 

That  was  the  brightest  hour  of  life : 

Eternity  outshone  the  tomb, 

The  power  of  God  was  in  the  room." 

"  She  is  now  at  rest,  but  her  great  gain  is  a  heavy  loss 
to  me,"  writes  the  solitary  man  from  his  island  house,  no 
longer  home  to  him.  "  May  the  Lord  our  Saviour  comfort 
me !  He  is  my  only  refuge,  and  I  confess,  to  his  praise,  I 
feel  his  presence  and  peace  in  an  abundant  degree.  As  to 
futurity,  I  commit  myself  and  the  Mission  into  his  gracious 
direction  and  care." 

As  there  was  no  churchyard  or  "  God's  acre  "  in  the  town, 
every  family  burying  its  dead  on  its  own  estate,  a  corner 
of  their  little  garden  received  the  dear  remains  of  the 
departed  one.  No  stone  marks  her  grave,  but  a  green 
mound,  grown  over  with  tropical  luxuriance,  is  pointed 
out  as  the  last  resting-place  of  this  pious  woman,  typical, 
perhaps,  that  her  spiritual  seed  shall  yet  inherit  the  land, 
and  rise  up  to  call  her  blessed.  A  few  months  after,  her 
husband,  borne  down  by  sickness,  left  the  island  and  came 
for  comfort  and  nursing  to  his  brethren  in  Barbadoes :  all 
efforts  were  used  to  restore  his  health,  but  without  success, 
and  "  he  fell  happily  asleep,  rejoicing  in  God  his  Saviour," 
4* 


42  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

on  the  27th  of  June,  1791.  In  a  secluded  spot,  fenced  around 
by  tamarind  trees,  the  traveller  is  shown  the  burying-place 
of  Sharon,  the  Moravian  station,  where  Rev.  John  Mont- 
gomery, one  of  its  early  and  most  devoted  missionaries, 
rests  from  his  earthly  toils. 

In  his  "  Departed  Days,"  the  son  passes  from  the  check- 
ered scenes  of  their  earthly  pilgrimage  to  catch  a  glimpse 
of  the  rewards  of  the  faithful  beyond. 

"  My  father  —  mother ;  —  parents  now  no  more ! 

Beneath  the  lion-star  they  sleep, 

Beyond  the  western  deep  ; 
And  when  the  sun's  noon-glory  crests  the  waves, 
lie  shines  without  a  shadow  on  their  graves. 

Sweet  seas  and  smiling  shores ! 

Where  no  tornado-demon  roars, 

Resembling  that  celestial  clime, 

Where  with  the  spirits  of  the  Blest, 

Beyond  the  hurricane  of  Time, 

From  all  their  toils  my  parents  rest ; 

There  skies,  eternally  serene, 

Diffuse  ambrosial  balm 

Through  sylvan  isles  forever  green, 

O'er  seas  forever  calm  ; 
While  saints  and  angels,  kindling  in  his  rays, 
On  the  full  glory  of  the  Godhead  gaze, 
And  taste  and  prove,  in  that  transporting  sight, 
Joy  without  sorrow,  without  darkness  light." 

No  one  was  sent  to  supply  Mr.  Montgomery's  place  at 
Tobago  for  several  years,  until,  at  the  urgent  solicitation  of 
Mr.  Hamilton,  who  seems  to  have  been  a  life-long  friend  to 
the  cause,  the  mission  was  renewed.  The  death  of  that 
gentleman  soon  after  occurring,  in  conjunction  with  other 
unfavorable  tokens,  the  island  was  abandoned  in  1803,  and 


ARRIVAL   IN   LONDON.  43 

their  efforts  to  evangelize  its  negro  population  were  reck- 
oned for  a  time  among  the  "unsuccessful  missions"  of  the 
United  Brethren. 

A  heavy  failure; — "perils  oft,"  heartaching  separations, 
sweating  toil,  pitying  tears,  pleadings  of  mercy,  importu- 
nate prayer  from  how  many  a  Brethren's  circle,  from 
Greenland's  icy  mountain 

"  To  India's  coral  strand," 

the  sacrifice  of  life  itself, — a  costly  outlay  of  most  precious 
things ;  and  yet,  a  failure !  Such  failures  are  no  strange 
anomalies  in  the  history  of  the  Church ;  and,  altogether, 
are  they  failures?  Who  can  pronounce  them  to  be?  In 
the  long  struggle,  who  can  tell  what  strengthening  of  spir- 
itual forces  there  may  yet  have  been;  what  evolving  of 
new  powers ;  what  refining  of  the  silver ;  what  castings  off 
of  dross ;  how  many  prayers  were  laid  up  in  the  golden 
cansor  before  the  Throne  of  God  ?  What  may  seem  defeat 
to  us,  may  be  only  the  obstructions  of  a  little  estuary  to 
the  advancing  tide  of  God's  Kingdom,  "  which  shall  cover 
the  earth,  even  as  the  waters  cover  the  sea." 

To  be  the  inheritors  of  an  ancestry  rich  in  faith  and 
good  works,  is  to  possess  a  most  royal  legacy ;  gold  can- 
not buy  it,  neither  can  silver  be  the  measure  of  its  worth. 
This  legacy  did  the  three  English  orphan  boys,  James, 
Robert,  and  Ignatius  Montgomery,  come  into  possession 
of;  and  how  they  proved  themselves  not  unworthy  of  their 
lineage,  this  brief  volume  will  in  some  measure  disclose. 

But  they  are  as  yet  ignorant  of  their  orphanage :  the 
two  younger  arc  still  at  Fulneck,  and  of  James,  what 
offers  and  opens  to  him  in  London? 

With  letters  of  introduction  and  recommendation  from 
his  friend  Brameld,  the  young  poet  presents  himself  to  Mr. 


44  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

Harrison,  an  efficient  publisher  and  bookseller  of  Paternos- 
ter Row,  himself  also  an  author,  and,  with  an  author's  sym- 
pathies,  supposed  to  look  favorably  upon  the  pages  of  the 
little  manuscript  already  in  his  hand. 

The  poems  he  declined  to  publish,  but  blunted  the  edge 
of  his  refusal  with  the  offer  of  a  clerkship  in  his  establish- 
ment, besides  words  of  kindly  encouragement  to  cultivate 
the  talents,  shadowed  but  dimly,  wTe  think,  in  these  early 
productions. 

Nothing  damped,  however,  in  his  conscious  ability  to  do 
something,  Montgomery,  at  the  suggestion  of  a  friend, 
directed  his  attention  to  prose,  and  wrote  a  story  for 
children,  Simple  Sammy.  The  story,  though  introduced 
to  a  publisher  who  "sold  books,  bound  and  gilt,  for  one 
halfpenny,"  was  coldly  looked  upon. 

"  You  can  write  better  than  this,"  said  the  honest  man 
of  trade ;  "  you  are  more  fit  to  write  for  men  than  for  chil- 
dren." 

The  plea  that  it  was  his  first  attempt  in  prose  could 
not  alter  the  verdict  of  the  publisher;  but,  as  before, 
gleaning  encouragement  even  in  the  rejection,  the  young 
author  betook  himself  to  something  for  men,  and  a  novel 
in  imitation  of  the  style  of  Fielding  was  the  result. 

The  manuscript  was  modestly  put  into  a  publisher's  hands 
on  his  way  to  his  country  house,  and  left,  with  what  flutter- 
ings  of  hope  and  fear,  it  is  no  difficult  thing  to  imagine. 

What  sentence  will  be  passed  upon  it  ?  An  anxious  and 
exciting  question,  stirring  in  the  bosom  of  the  youth,  as  he 
presents  himself  before  the  arbiter  of  his  fate,  on  his  return 
to  town,  envying,  perhaps,  the  calmness  of  many  a  culprit 
at  the  bar  in  expectation  of  his  sentence  from  the  judge. 

"  You  swear  so  shockingly,"  was  the  brief  return,  "  that 
I  dare  not  publish  the  work  as  it  is." 


HIS    WANT    OF   SUCCESS.  45 

Astonishment  smothered  his  disappointment. 

"  This,"  he  afterwards  tells  us,  "  was  like  a  dagger  to  my 
heart,  for  I  never  swore  an  oath  in  my  life,  nor  did  I  till 
that  moment  ever  perceive,  as  I  ought  to  have  done,  the 
impropriety  of  making  fictitious  characters  swear  in  print, 
as  they  do  in  Fielding  and  Smollett,  who  had  been  my 
models  in  this  novel ;  but  swearing  was  more  the  fashion 
of  that  age  than  the  present." 

The  harshness  of  the  criticism  was,  however,  modified 
by  the  offer  of  twenty  pounds  for  the  manuscript,  re-written 
and  expurgated  of  its  offensive  qualities.  This  was  done  a 
few  years  later,  but  the  novel  never  came  to  light,  which  was 
matter  of  devout  thankfulness  to  the  author  in  after  life. 

To  show  the  dauntless  industry  of  the  youth,  in  the  teeth 
of  all  discouragements,  an  "Eastern  Tale"  was  shortly  com- 
pleted, and  privately  carried  one  evening  to  a  bookseller's 
counting-room.  Its  title  was  condescendingly  read,  its 
pages  and  lines  carefully  counted,  a  rapid  calculation  of 
its  size  computed,  and  the  manuscript returned. 

"Sir,"  replies  the  cautious  book-vender,  "your  manu- 
script is  too  small,  —  it  won't  do  for  me,  —  take  it  to , 

he  publishes  such  things." 

At  this  new  and  unexpected  mode  of  estimating  talent, 
Montgomery  made  a  precipitate  retreat,  upsetting  a  lamp, 
smashing  glass,  and  spilling  oil,  in  the  haste  of  his  back- 
track to  the  street. 

What  Derrick  wrote  of  Johnson  might  apply  to  the 
early  attempts  of  many  a  young  author  since,  tapping  at 
the  door  of  public  favor. 

"  Will  no  kind  patron  Johnson  own  ? 
Shall  Johnson  friendless  range  the  town  ? 
And  every  publisher  refuse 
The  offspring  of  his  happy  muse  ?  " 


46  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

Montgomery  certainly  fared  no  better  than  a  great  host 
of  writers  of  both  genuine  and  spurious  talent,  who  only 
through  sore  travail  of  spirit  have  proved  their  great  life- 
work,  or  sunk  into  that  obscurity  from  which  ambition,  not 
bottomed  on  ability,  tried  unsuccessfully  to  lift  them. 

Glimpses  of  living  authors  occasionally  gladdened  the 
young  man's  curious  gaze,  mostly  of  local  note,  scarcely 
known  across  the  water.  The  distinguished  men  whose 
genius  forms  so  rich  a  portion  of  the  literary  wealth  of 
our  time  were  yet  on  the  threshold  of  manhood,  uncer- 
tainly peering  into  the  future,  with  serious  and  wondering 
eyes. 

"  Nineteen  years  have  elapsed,"  says  Southey,  "  unsatis- 
fied and  aimless  in  Bristol,  since  I  set  sail  on  the  ocean  of 
life,  in  an  ill-provided  boat.  The  vessel  weathered  many 
a  storm,  and  I  took  every  distant  cloud  for  land.  Still 
pushing  for  the  Fortunate  Islands,  I  discovered  that  they 
existed  not  for  me ;  and  that  like  others,  wiser  and  better 
than  myself,  I  must  be  content  to  wander  about  and  never 
gain  the  port.  Nineteen  years !  and  yet  of  no  service  to 
society.  Why,  the  clown  who  scares  crows  for  two  pence 
a  day  is  a  more  useful  member  of  society.  He  preserves 
the  bread  which  I  eat  in  idleness." 

And  yet  it  was  not  idleness,  though  it  might  prove  un- 
productive labor ;  for  the  complaining  youth  had  already 
burned  ten  thousand  of  his  verses,  the  same  number  pre- 
served, with  fifteen  thousand  worthless  beside ;  an  amount 
of  scribbling  which,  with  his  love  of  literature,  took  him 
from  the  severer  tasks  of  school. 

Coleridge,  an  unsuccessful  competitor  for  college  prizes, 
and  burdened  with  college  debts,  quits  Cambridge  and 
returns  to  London,  where,  if  not  precisely  now,  a  little 
later,  he  strolls  down  Chancery  Lane,  a  prey  to  despairing 


CONTEMPORANEOUS    GENIUS  47 

and  miserable  thoughts.  A  recruiting  agent  crosses  his 
path,  and  in  one  of  those  sudden  impulses  which  unmade 
the  man,  he  enlists  in  the  15th  Light  Dragoons:  but  a  few 
months  of  friendly  messing  and  awkward  horsemanship  were 
all  that  marked  his  term  of  military  service. 

The  two,  Coleridge  and  Southey,  have  not  yet  met  to 
generate  their  scheme  of  founding  a  new  republic  in  the 
wilds  of  America,  where  virtue  was  to  be  ascendant,  aris- 
tocracy elbowed  out  of  the  way,  and  all  those  social  evils 
which  beleaguer  society  would  be  forever  banished. 

Scott,  the  genial  and  light  hearted  Walter,  three  months 
older  than  Montgomery,  is  at  his  happy  Scottish  home  in 
George's  Square,  Edinburgh.  We  shall  find  him  in  his 
favorite  "den," — a  small  room  in  his  father's  house,  already 
an  old  curiosity  shop,  where  Roman  coins,  a  Lochabar  axe, 
and  quaint-looking  books,  reveal  the  leanings  of  his  mind ; 
or,  perhaps,  he  is  climbing  Arthur's  Seat  and  Salisbury 
Crags,  or  strolling  over  Flodden  or  Chevy  Chase,  or  listen- 
ing to  the  stirring  stories  of  the  old  Highland  Chiefs  of 
'45  ;  hoarding  up  in  the  capacious  storehouse  of  his  memory 
that  multifarious  material  which  he  afterwards  wrought, 
with  such  marvellous  skill,  into  the  literary  history  of 
England. 

Lamb  is  in  the  India  House,  and  Rogers  is  perfecting 
himself  in  all  the  accomplishments  of  the  age ;  at  work  also 
on  the  "Pleasures  of  Memory,"  surrounded  by  wealth 
which  does  not  enervate  him, — both  Londoners  and  loving 
London,  and  thinking,  with  Madame  De  Stael,  that  there 
is  "no  scene  equal  to  the  high  tide  of  existence  in  the 
heart  of  a  populous  city." 

This  period  was  characterized  by  the  subsidence  of  that 
wave  of  renovated  religious  feeling  which  rolled  over  Eng- 
land and  America  a  century  ago,  known  in  the  history  of 


48  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

the  church  as  the  "Great1  Awakening,"  and  by  the  rolling 
in  of  that  tide  of  French  infidelity  and  bold  questioning 
of  all  sacred  things,  which  preceded,  and  in  a  sense  created, 
the  French  Revolution  and  its  attendant  horrors. 

The  effects  of  that  awakening  had  not,  indeed,  passed 
away  with  the  death  of  the  remarkable  men  who  repre- 
sented it.  An  improved  tone  of  morals,  a  more  scriptural 
cast  of  piety,  a  deeper  sense  of  accountability  for  the  moral 
evils  of  the  world,  out  of  which  issued  the  reformatory 
institutions  and  missionary  enterprises  of  our  day,  were  its 
more  obvious  fruits ;  and  both  the  church  and  the  nation 
were  better  prepared  to  grapple  with  the  hungry  democracy 
and  the  fanatic  free-thinking  which  broke  out  all  over 
England,  as  well  as  to  recognize  what  the  true  spirit  of 
progress  sometimes  too  passionately  demanded. 

The  political  tragedies  which  were  enacted,  the  tumbling 
down  of  hoary  institutions,  the  hurried  tread  of  events,  the 
strange  and  resistless  entrance  of  the  Napoleonic  element 
into  the  politics  of  Europe,  the  boiling  and  seething  of 
fiery  political  excitements  and  fiercely  debated  reformatory 
schemes,  the  mighty  conflicts  between  truths  and  errors, 
mistaken  zeal  and  a  wise  conservatism  which  stirred  the 
great  heart  of  Christendom,  undoubtedly  bad  much  to  do 
with  forming  the  literary  men  who  adorned  the  early 
part  of  the  present  century,  though  we  may  not  be  able 
distinctly  to  trace  either  in  them  or  their  works  the  stormy 
elements  which  rocked  their  cradles,  swept  over  their  boy- 
hood, and  shaped  their  lives. 

In  poetry  new  forms  and  schools  began  to  appear. 
While  the  essence  of  poetry  is  the  same  through  the  ages, 
its  expression  varies  with  the  sinuosities  of  the  times,  as 
the  banks  and  bed  of  a  river  change  the  expression  of  its 
waters ;  now  shallow,  and  now  turbid ;  now  idly  dallying 


NEW    SCHOOLS    OF   POETRY.  49 

with  the  lilies  among  the  sedges ;  now  roaring  defiance  at  its 
rocky  barriers ;  now  rolling  with  deep  and  majestic  sweep, 
beautiful  and  resistless  in  its  strength. 

Every  epoch  is  inaugurated  by  its  poets.  The  old  age 
of  an  era  has  little  to  offer  the  poet ;  its  worth  has  been 
embalmed  and  its  heroisms  sung ;  its  withered  vigor  and 
worn  habits  may,  indeed,  give  point  to  an  epigram  or  adorn 
a  tale,  but  little  is  left  to  kindle  inspiration,  and  much  to 
smoulder  it :  while  a  new  era,  through  a  thousand  open- 
ings, as  the  brazen  throats  of  a  volcano  herald  the  upheav- 
ing within,  quickens  With  its  hot  breath  the  intellectual 
insights  and  creative  powers  of  genius. 

Emancipation  from  old  conventionalities  opens  the  door 
to  a  more  natural  and  independent  inward  life.  The  poet, 
feeling  himself  less  amenable  to  prescribed  models,  dares  to 
follow  his  unfettered  impulses,  and  work  out,  for  and  by 
himself,  his  own  ideals  of  poetic  excellence.  New  forms  of 
society  beget  more  liberal  views,  a  nearer  approach  to  the 
true  vitalities  of  life,  and  a  clearer  view  of  what  is  genuine 
and  permanent  from  what  is  artificial  and  transitory.  New 
ways  are  indeed  not  easy  ways.  Critics,  born  of  the  past, 
solemnly  and  scornfully  protest. 

"  Cold  approbation  gives  the  lingering  bavs ; 
For  those  who  durst  not  censure,  scarce  can  praise." 

The  world  is  slow  to  forgive  originalities ;  while  the  pub- 
lic, cautious  yet  over  curious,  "  ask  for  more." 
Happy  he,  who, 

"  though  the  world  has  done  its  worst 
To  put  him  out  by  discords  most  unkind," 

bravely  and   patiently  works  on  ;    strong  in  inward  might, 


50  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

fervent  "with  spiritual  urgency  ;  the    storms  of  sad  confu- 
sion neither  shaking  his  purpose  nor  "blinding  his  vision. 

"  For,  seeing  thus  the  course  of  things  must  run, 
He  looks  thereon  not  strange,  but  as  foredone. 
*  *  *  *  He  looks  thereon, 

As  from  the  shore  of  Peace,  "with  umvet  eye, 
And  bears  no  venture  in  Impiety." 


CHAPTER    IV. 

SETTLEMENT  AT  SHEFFIELD  —  NATIONAL  DISQUIET — POLITICAL  HYMN 
—  GALES'S  DEPARTURE  —  ESTABLISHMENT  OF  THE  IRIS  —  INVOCA- 
CATION   TO   THE    IRIS — POSITION   AS   EDITOR. 

Montgomery's  stay  in  London  did  not  last  beyond  a 
year.  His  clerkship  at  Harrison's  afforded  him  a  comfort- 
able living,  and  happily  prevented  his  bringing  away  any 
of  the  sorry  experiences,  which  talent  dogged  by  poverty 
often  encountered  in  the  by-ways  of  that  great  metropolis. 

Disappointments  he  indeed  had,  but  those  only  which 
chasten,  without  seriously  depressing ;  serving  to  bring  men 
to  a  juster  estimate  of  themselves,  and  directing  them  to 
that  toil  without  which  the  brightest  abilities  are  vainly 
given. 

Self-help  is  better  than  patronage :  so  Montgomery 
thought,  as  he  turned  his  back  on  London,  in  the  month 
of  March,  and  took  a  stage-coach  lumbering  to  TVath,  in 
every  respect,  we  doubt  not,  a  wiser  man.  Having  suf- 
fered none  of  the  hardships  of  poverty,  so,  also,  he  had 
lapsed  into  none  of  the  corrupting  seductions  of  city  life. 
His  shyness  of  society,  and  the  reflective  cast  of  his  mind, 
while  they  might  have  sometimes  hindered  his  introduction 
to  scenes  and  places  favorable  to  intellectual  quickening, 
helped  to  preserve  that  purity  of  moral  principle  which 
was  the  beauty  and  excellency  of  his  character. 


52  LIFE   OF   MONTGOMERY. 

His  old  master  on  the  banks  of  the  Dearne  cordially  wel- 
comed him  back,  and  he  resumed  his  old  post  at  the  desk, 
in  his  counting-room,  to  look  out  for  a  more  fortunate  turn 
to  his  affairs.     Nor  was  he  long  waiting. 

Collecting  accounts  one  day  at  Great  Houghton,  Mont- 
gomery took  up  a  newspaper  and  read  the  following  adver- 
tisement :  "  Wanted,  in  a  counting-house  in  Sheffield,  a 
clerk.  None  need  apply  but  such  as  have  been  used  to 
book-keeping,  and  can  produce  undeniable  testimonials  of 
character.  Terms  and  specimens  of  writing  to  be  left  with 
the  printer." 

The  young  man,  now  just  twenty-one,  recognized  the 
situation  as  one  which  he  could  suitably  fill,  and  imme- 
diately despatched  a  letter  to  the  advertiser,  offering  his 
services,  and  soliciting  an  interview.  The  result  was  a  visit 
to  Sheffield  and  his  engaging  the  place. 

Joseph  Gales,  his  new  employer,  was  printer,  bookseller, 
and  auctioneer,  —  a  triad  of  vocations  not  unusual  at  that 
time ;  and,  in  addition,  editor  of  the  Sheffield  Register^  a 
respectable  weekly  of  some  note  in  its  day. 

On  the  second  of  April,  1792,  the  young  man  came  to 
his  new  lodgings  in  Mr.  Gales's  family  at  the  Hartshead, 
where  the  handsome  and  commodious  shop  of  his  master 
was  one  of  the  most  conspicuous  buildings  on  the  street ; 
while  its  shelves,  lined  with  books,  must  have  seemed  to 
the  hungry  young  clerk  an  inexhaustible  supply  of  daily 
food. 

Sheffield  then  was  not  the  Sheffield  of  the  present.  Its 
fashionable  promenade,  —  "  Ladies'  Walk,"  —  is  now  only  a 
shabby  street,  with  scarce  a  vestige  of  its  past  gentility. 
Instead  of  three  or  four  churches,  churches  and  chapels,  a 
score  or  more,  testify  to  its  modern  growth.  Its  famous 
cutlery  has  altered  hi  quantity  rather  than  quality,  giving 


SETTLEMENT  AT   SHEFFIELD.  53 

it  only  wider  fame ;  while  the  tall  chimneys  of  its  great 
steam  engines  are  monuments  of  its  capital  and  labor, 
enriching  the  rich,  and  pouring  comfort  into  the  lap  of 
honest  industry. 

Mr.  Gales's  family,  in  the  bosom  of  which  Montgomery 
was  soon  domesticated,  consisted  of  a  wife  and  three  chil- 
dren. His  father,  mother,  and  three  sisters,  resided  in  the 
pleasant  village  of  Eckington,  six  miles  south  of  Sheffield, 
— a  delightful  summer  walk,  amid  the  choice  beauties  of 
English  rural  scenery. 

Mrs.  Gales  was  herself  a  woman  of  literary  tastes,  oc- 
casionally contributing  to  the  columns  of  her  husband's 
paper,  and  the  author  of  a  novel  in  three  volumes,  of 
how  much  local  celebrity  we  do  not  know. 

Thus  was  Montgomery  surrounded  by  influences  agree- 
able to  his  tastes,  and  favorable  to  his  mental  improvement. 

The  author  of  the  English  Garden  lived  a  few  miles 
off,  at  the  Ashton  rectory ;  and  though  a  "  real  living  poet, 
who  had  published  a  volume,"  was  a  sight  much  coveted 
by  our  poet,  he  never  happened  to  have  met  with  Mason. 
Who  first  gratified  this  natural  curiosity  we  do  not  find, 
for  it  was  possibly  when  curiosity  was  somewhat  abated 
of  its  youthful  glow. 

But  if  not  a  poet,  a  living  poem  crossed  his  path,  —  the 
ragged  proof  sheets  of  the  Pleasures  of  Memory  from 
the  pocket  of  a  compositor,  newly  arrived  from  a  London 
office,  where  it  had  been  printed.  It  bore  no  author's 
name,  and  all  the  printer  could  reveal  of  its  paternity 
was  that  one  "Parson  Harrison"  was  supposed  to  be  the 
writer. 

It  shortly  appeared  with  Rogers's  name,  and  was  received 
with  kindly  courtesy  in  the  literary  circles  of  England. 

Perhaps  we  cannot  better  introduce  our  readers  into  the 
5* 


54  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

stirring  scenes  which  marked  the  time  of  Montgomery's 
engagement  with  Mr.  Gales,  than  by  a  retrospective  glance 
at  them,  given  in  his  own  words. 

"I  came  to  Sheffield  in  the  spring  of  1792,  a  stranger 
and  friendless,  without  any  prospect  or  intention  of  making 
a  long  residence  in  it,  much  less  of  advancing  myself,  either 
by  industry  or  talents,  to  a  situation  that  should  give  me 
the  opportunity  of  doing  much  evil  or  good,  as  I  might  act 
with  indiscretion  or  temperance.  The  whole  nation,  at  that 
time,  was  disturbed  from  its  propriety  by  the  example  and 
influence  of  revolutionized  France ;  nor  was  there  a  dis- 
trict in  the  kingdom  more  agitated  by  the  passions  and 
prejudices  of  the  day  than  this.  The  people  of  Sheffield, 
in  whatever  contempt  they  may  have  been  held  by 
those  ignorant  of  their  character,  were  then,  as  they 
now  are,  a  reading  and  thinking  people.  According  to 
the  knowledge  which  they  had,  therefore,  they  judged 
for  themselves  on  the  questions  of  reform  in  parliament, 
liberty  of  speech  and  of  the  press,  the  rights  of  man,  and 
other  problems,  concerning'  which  the  wisest  and  best  of 
men  have  been  divided,  and  never  more  so  than  at  the 
period  mentioned,  when  the  decision  either  way  was  not 
to  be  merely  speculative  but  practical,  and  to  affect  per- 
manently the  condition  of  all  classes  in  the  realm,  from 
the  monarch  to  the  pauper,  —  so  deep,  comprehensive,  and 
prospective  was  the  view  taken  by  everybody  on  the  issue 
of  the  controversy. 

"The  two  parties  in  Sheffield,  as  elsewhere,  arranged 
themselves  on  the  contrary  extremes ;  some  being  for  every- 
thing old,  the  rest  for  everything  that  was  new.  There 
was  no  moderation  on  either  side ;  each  had  a  little  of  the 
truth,  while  the  main  body  of  it  lay  between :  yet  it  was 
not  for  this  they  were  contending  (like  the  Trojans  and 


NATIONAL  DISQUIET.  55 

Greeks  for  the  body  of  Patroclus),  but  for  those  few  dissev- 
ered  limbs  which  they  already  possessed. 

"It  was  at  the  'height  of  this  great  argument'  that  I  was 
led  into  the  thickest  of  the  conflict,  though,  happily  for 
myself,  under  no  obligation  to  take  an  active  share  in  it. 
With  all  the  enthusiasm  of  youth,  —  for  I  had  not  then 
arrived  at  what  are  called  years  of  discretion,  —  I  entered 
into  the  feelings  of  those  who  avowed  themselves  the 
friends  of  freedom,  justice,  and  humanity.  Those  with 
whom  I  was  immediately  connected  verily  were  such ;  and 
had  all  the  reformers  of  that  day  been  generous,  upright, 
and  disinterested,  like  the  noble  minded  proprietor  of  the 
Sheffield  Register  the  cause  which  they  espoused  would 
never  have  been  disgraced,  and  might  have  prevailed,  even 
at  that  time,  since  there  could  have  been  nothing  to  fear, 
but  everything  to  hope,  from  patriotic  measures  supported 
by  patriotic  men. 

"  Though  with  every  pulse  of  my  heart  beating  in  favor 
of  the  popular  doctrines,  my  retired  and  religious  educa- 
tion had  laid  restraints  upon  my  conscience,  —  I  may  say 
so  fearlessly,  —  which  long  kept  me  back  from  personally 
engaging  in  the  civil  war  of  words,  then  raging  through 
the  neighborhood,  beyond  an  occasional  rhyme,  paragraph, 
or  essay,  written  rather  to  show  off  my  literary  than  polit- 
ical qualifications.  Ignorant  of  myself,  and  inexperienced 
in  the  world,  I  nevertheless  was  preserved  from  joining 
myself  to  any  of  the  political  societies  until  they  were 
broken  up  in  1704,  when  I  confess  I  did  associate  with 
the  remnant  of  one,  for  a  purpose  which  I  shall  never  be 
ashamed  to  avow,  —  to  support  the  families  of  some  of  the 
accused  leaders  who  were  detained  prisoners  in  London, 
under  the  suspension  of  the  Habeas  Corpus  Act,  and  were 
finally  discharged  without  having  been  brought  to  trial.''' 


56  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

Mr.  Gales,  it  is  seen,  affiliated  with  the  popular  party. 
His  sympathies  were  strongly  aroused  for  the  unhappy 
French,  in  their  strivings  for  an  ideal  freedom  destined 
not  then  to  be  realized;  for  national  self-government  can 
only  be  attained  by  a  self-governed  people.  He  was 
consequently  opposed  to  the  war  which  Pitt  was  deter- 
mined to  wage  with  France  and  the  Revolution,  in  pre- 
paration for  which  recruiting  agents  were  in  every  town 
enlisting  men  for  the  service.  A  third  element  of  political 
agitation  consisted  in  the  advantage  taken  of  the  time  to 
urge  ]3arliamentary  reform,  —  a  fuller  representation  of  the 
people  in  the  national  counsels,  —  which,  indeed,  was  no 
new  feature  in  the  politics  of  the  country,  Pitt  having  elo- 
quently advocated  it  several  years  before.  French  suc- 
cesses, not  yet  excesses,  had  given  new  significance  to 
the  question,  and  brought  it  before  the  people  with  all 
the  fresh  possibilities  of  the  times,  whose  clamorous  and 
ill-advised  advocacy  alarmed  the  Crown,  and  intimidated 
some  of  its  staunchest  friends. 

In  Sheffield,  a  popular  demonstration,  in  the  shape  of  a 
public  dinner  at  the  Tontine,  in  celebration  of  the  revo- 
lution of  1688,  was  an  offset  to  the  quartering  of  two 
hundred  cavalry  in  the  town,  and  the  drumming  up  of  re- 
cruits on  the  part  of  the  government.  The  war  prospects 
cast  a  general  gloom  over  the  country,  not  only  because 
its  avowed  objects  were  not  generally  sympathized  with, 
but  on  account  of  the  strain  and  distress  which  war  natu- 
rally brings  upon  the  industry  and  commerce  of  a  country 
like  that  of  England,  in  need  of  so  great  a  foreign  market 
for  her  goods. 

The  Sheffield  Register  was  an  earnest  and  able,  if  not 
always  a  prudent  sheet,  and  its  large  subscription  list 
attests  its  popularity,  having  reached,   we  are  told,  two 


POLITICAL  HYMN.  57 

thousand  and  twenty-five  names,  a  notable  number  in  those 
days. 

Its  columns  were  opened  to  our  aspiring  author,  a  temp- 
tation certainly  not  to  be  resisted,  and  various  articles,  — 
stories,  squibs,  satires  and  sonnets, — from  time  to  time  ap- 
peared, all  having  reference  to  the  times,  and  whatever 
their  pertinence  then,  possessing  no  merit  to  perpetuate 
them  beyond  their  generation.  These,  he  afterwards 
mourned  over  as  "  youthful  follies,"  —  an  indication  of  the 
searching  self-scrutiny  of  a  sincere  Christian ;  perhaps  they 
were,  more  justly,  only  the  early  fall  of  unripe  fruit  for 
the  better  perfecting  of  that  which  remained. 

A  royal  proclamation  having  been  issued  for  a  public  fast 
on  February  4,  1794,  the  Sheffield  "patriots"  gave  to  the 
occasion  their  own  drift,  and  assembled  in  large  numbers 
in  an  open  field :  their  prayers,  speeches,  and  resolutions, 
of  questionable  prudence  perhaps,  and  little  more,  seen 
through  jealous  and  excited  feeling,  were  twisted  into 
constructive  treason  by  the  government  officials,  and  some 
of  the  prominent  actors  figured  in  the  state-trials  of  that 
day.  Montgomery  furnished  the  hymn,  which  has  more 
politics  than  poetry.  What  smattering  of  sedition  it  has 
the  reader  may  judge : 

"  Oh  God  of  Hosts,  thine  ear  incline, 
Regard  our  prayers,  our  cause  be  thine ; 
When  orphans  cry,  when  babes  complain, 
When  widows  weep,  can'st  Thou  refrain  ? 

Now  red  and  terrible,  thine  hand 
Scourges  with  war  our  guilty  land ; 
Europe  thy  flaming  vengeance  feels, 
And  from  her  deep  foundations  reels. 


58  JAMES   MONTGOMERY. 

Iler  rivers  bleed  like  mighty  veins ; 
Her  towers  are  ashes,  graves  her  plains ; 
Slaughter  her  groaning  vallies  fills, 
And  reeking  carnage  melts  her  hills. 

Oh  Thou,  whose  awful  word  can  bind 
The  roaring  waves,  the  raging  wind, 
Mad  tyrants  tame,  break  down  the  high, 
Whose  haughty  foreheads  beat  the  sky. 

Make  bare  thine  arm,  great  King  of  kings ! 
That  arm  alone  salvation  brings  ;  — 
That  wonder-working  arm,  which  broke 
From  Israel's  neck  the  Egyptian's  yoke. 

Burst  every  dungeon,  every  chain, 

Give  injured  slaves  their  rights  again  : 

Let  truth  prevail,  let  discord  cease, 

Speak  —  and  the  world  shall  smile  in  peace." 

Men  had  already  been  arrested  and  sentenced  on  charges 
of  sedition  and  libel ;  and  that  there  were  men,  who,  taking 
advantage  of  the  general  fermentation,  delighted  to  spread 
terror  by  infamous  rumours,  and  even  seriously  plotted 
against  the  existing  government  of  the  realm,  there  can 
be  no  doubt ;  but  many  a  trial  and  subsequent  pardon  of 
the  criminal  prove  that  "contsructive  treason"  was  easily 
framed,  and  that  generous  sympathies,  equivocally  ex- 
pressed perhaps,  was  the  head  and  front  of  the  offending. 
In  the  face  of  fourteen  years  transportation,  the  times  may 
have  well  been  deemed  perilous,  and  notoriety  was  easily 
gained  upon  very  small  capital. 

In  April,  an  excited  meeting  was  held  at  Castle  Hill, 
where  the  speakers,  more  vehement  than  discreet,  gave 
occasion  for  other  arrests.  Mr.  Gales  fell  under  suspicions, 
and  in  times  when  to  be  suspected  was  to  be  endangered, 


GALES' S   DEPARTURE.  59 

rather  than  run  the  risk  of  Old  Bailey  or  Botany  Bay,  his 
friends  counselled  flight.  lie  was  sought,  but  could  not 
be  found.  And  on  the  following  week  his  valedictory  ap- 
peared in  the  columns  of  the  Register. 

"  Could  my  imprisonment,"  adds  the  fugitive  editor,  "  or 
even  death,  serve  the  cause  which  I  have  espoused  —  the 
cause  of  liberty,  peace,  and  justice — it  would  be  cowardice 
to  fly  from  it ;  but  convinced  that  ruining  my  family  and 
distressing  my  friends,  by  risking  either,  would  only  gratify 
the  ignorant  and  malignant,  I  shall  seek  that  livelihood  in 
another  land  which  I  cannot  possibly  obtain  in  this.  To  be 
accused  is  now  to  be  guilty /  and  however  conscious  I  may 
be  of  having  neither  done,  said,  or  written  anything  that 
militates  against  peace,  order,  and  good  government,  yet 
when  I  am  told  that  witnesses  are  suborned  to  swear  mo 
guilty  of  treasonable  and  seditious  practices,  it  becomes 
prudent  to  avoid  such  dark  assassins,  and  to  leave  to  the 
informers  and  their  employers,  the  mortification  of  know- 
ing that,  however  deep  their  villainy  was  planned,  it  has 
been  unsuccessful." 

With  this  the  Register  closed  its  career,  after  an  ex- 
istence of  eight  years.  Mr.  Gales's  property  was  attached, 
and  bankruptcy  and  ruin  stared  him  in  the  face.  He  fled 
to  the  Continent,  and  was  soon  followed  by  his  young 
family.  Crosses  tracked  him.  After  severe  hardships  and 
privations,  he  came  to  this  country,  and  established  the 
Raleigh  Register.  Industry  and  talent  met  their  due 
reward.  "  Gales  and  Seaton,"  the  long,  widely-known,  and 
able  publishers  of  the  Nationcd  Intelligencer,  in  Washing- 
ton, are  branches  of  this  parent  stock,  the  first  his  eldest 
son,  and  the  other  the  husband  of  one  of  his  daughters. 
So  has  our  country  been  enriched  by  protection  vouchsafed 
to  exiled  worth. 


GO  LIFE  OF  MONTGOMERY. 

Montgomery  again  found  himself  adrift.  He  beheld  a 
pleasant  home  rudely  broken  up ;  fair  prospects  suddenly 
blasted ;  a  stricken  wife  forsaking  the  dear  and  delightful 
intimacies  of  youth ;  children  driven  to  poverty.  The  circle 
which  had  embraced  him  in  its  genial  hosjutalities,  and  the 
generous  man  who  had  taken  him  to  his  bosom,  were  swept 
away  and  himself  left,  a  fragment  of  the  wreck.  Keenly 
must  he  have  felt  the  distresses  of  his  friends,  and  bravely 
did  he  stand  by  the  fallen  family,  with  ready  sympathy 
and  timely  succor.  But  in  this  new  emergency,  what  was 
he  to  do  ?  Start  a  new  paper  upon  the  old  premises  ? 
This  was  suggested.  A  more  serious  question,  —  ichere 
was  the  capital  to  begin  with  ?  A  gentleman,  till  then 
almost  unknown  to  the  young  man,  offered  to  advance 
the  money  and  become  a  partner  in  the  enterprise; — a 
proof  that  his  stay  at  Sheffield  had  been  long  enough, 
short  as  it  was,  to  inspire  men  with  confidence  in  his  abili- 
ties and  integrity,  and  to  determine  in  some  measure  the 
sources  of  his  own  strength. 

The  last  issue  of  the  Register  contained  the  prospectus 
of  the  new  editors,  and  their  sheet  was  looked  for  with 
more  than  ordinary  interest  on  the  following  week. 

On  the  4th  of  July,  1794,  appeared  the  first  number  of 
the  IriS)  wearing  the  conciliatory  head-piece :  — 

"  Ours  are  the  plans  of  fair,  delightful  Peace, 
Un warped  by  party  rage,  to.  live  like  Brothers." 

The  poet's  corner  of  its  predecessor  had  been  styled  "  The 
Repository  of  Genius."  This  interesting  locality  in  the 
Iris  was  dubbed  "  Comptuat,  or  the  Bower  of  the  Muses," 
the  conceited  and  unintelligible  title  being  an  anagram 
formed  from  the  initial  letters  of  the  names  of  the  Muses. 


INVOCATION   TO   THE   IRIS.  61 

Barbara  Horle,  afterwards  Mrs.  Holland,  first  occupied 
this  Bower  in  an  invocation  to  the  Iris,  expressive  of  its 
principles. 

"  Oh  say,  art  thou  the  bright-eyed  maid, 
Saturnia's  messenger  confest  ? 
Does  sacred  truth  thy  mind  pervade, 
And  love  celestial  warm  thy  breast  ? 

Com'st  thou  with  covenanted  bow, 

Blest  signature  of  heavenly  peace, 
To  lay  the  wars  of  faction  low, 

And  bid  the  wars  of  discord  cease ; 

The  various  forms  of  good  intent, 

In  one  pure  social  league  to  bind, 
By  prudence  taught,  through  virtue  bent, 

To  reconcile  the  public  mind  V 

A.re  these  thy  aims  ?  bright  vision,  hail ! 

Midst  Freedom's  clouded  atmosphere, 
No  storms  thy  genius  shall  assail, 

Nor  latent  mischiefs  hover  near. 

Fair  be  thy  form,  and  gay  thine  hue, 

In  learning's  Tyrian  lustre  drest, 
Grounded  on  truth's  celestial  blue, 

Tinged  from  the  Muses'  yellow  vest. 

Far  may  thy  glowing  beauties  shine, 

And  glad  success  secure  thy  beam, 
While  reason  mild  and  peace  divine 

Roll  o'er  the  earth  their  lucid  stream," 

Its  political  platform  is  more  fully  disclosed  in  the  follow- 
editorial :  — 

"  We  beg  leave  to  assure  the  public,"  says  the  maiden  ad- 
dress of  the  new  firm,  "  that  every  endeavor  will  be  used  to 
6 


62  LIFE  OF  MONTGOMERY. 

render  it  worthy  of  their  patronage ;  and  if  a  careful  selection 
of  the  earliest  intelligence  can  recommend  it  to  their  favor, 
they  doubt  not  of  its  being  honored  with  a  liberal  support. 
They  profess  themselves  desirous  to  avoid,  in  this  publica- 
tion, the  influence  of  party  spirit.  Like  other  men,  they 
have  their  own  political  opinions  and  attachments ;  and 
they  have  no  scruple  to  declare  themselves  friends  to  the 
cause  of  Peace  and  Reform,  however  the  declaration  may 
be  likely  to  expose  them  in  the  present  times  of  alarm  to 
obnoxious  epithets  and  unjust  and  ungenerous  reproaches. 
13ut  while  they  acknowledge  themselves  unconvinced  of 
the  necessity  or  expediency  of  the  present  war,  and  fully 
persuaded  that  a  melioration  of  the  state  of  the  representa- 
tive body  is  intimately  connected  with  the  true  interests  of 
the  nation,  they  declare  their  firm  attachment  to  the  Con- 
stitution of  its  Governme7it,  as  administered  by  king,  lords, 
and  commons ;  and  they  scorn  the  imputations  which  would 
represent  every  Reformer  as  a  Jacobin,  and  every  advocate 
for  peace  as  an  enemy  to  his  king  and  country.  They  pity 
those  persons,  whatever  their  principles  may  be,  who,  in 
trying  to  defend  them,  have  recourse  to  the  mean  acts  of 
vilifying  and  abusing  their  opponents;  and  they  proclaim 
their  own  firm  purpose  to  avoid  descending  to  the  littleness 
of  personal  controversy,  or  to  recriminations  unworthy  alike 
of  Britons,  of  Christians,  or  of  men.  It  is  their  wish,  on 
the  contrary,  to  cherish,  as  far  as  they  are  able,  a  good 
opinion  of  those  who  differ  from  them ;  to  allow  the  weight 
of  their  arguments,  where  they  really  deserve  consideration; 
to  place  them  in  the  most  favorable  view ;  and  to  give  their 
readers  a  fair  opportunity  of  forming  an  impartial  judgment 
by  a  comparison  of  the  best  remarks  which  can  be  made  on 
all  sides.  At  the  same  time,  they  declare  it  is  not  their 
intention  to   enter  themselves  as  parties  on  the  political 


POSITION    AS    EDITOR.  63 

field.  For  though  they  shall  think  it  their  duty  to  state 
the  reasonings  on  both  sides  of  public  and  interesting 
questions,  they  do  not  conceive  it  to  be  at  all  the  proper 
business  of  the  editor  of  a  newspaper  to  present  his  readers 
"with  his  own  political  opinions ;  and  whatever  theirs  may 
at  any  time  be,  it  is  too  much  their  wish  to  live  in  peace 
and  charity  with  all  men,  to  feel  disposed  to  come  forward 
as  angry  zealots  or  violent  partizans.  Their  utmost  am- 
bition will  be  gratified  if  they  shall  be  able  to  recommend 
this  paper  to  the  public  notice  as  an  authentic,  impartial, 
and  early  record  of  the  sentiments  of  others  on  those  great 
political  topics  which  now  agitate  the  world,  and  of  those 
interesting  events  which  almost  every  day  now  furnishes, 
and  which  but  mark  out  the  present  era  to  the  peculiar 
attention  of  the  politician,  the  historian,  and  the  philoso- 
pher." 

A  manly,  modest  and  prudent  stand  for  the  youthful 
editor,  having  wisely  improved  upon  the  more  demonstra- 
tive attitude  of  his  predecessor.  In  some  respects  a 
remarkable  stand,  when  we  consider  his  friendship  for  the 
Gales,  the  fervor  of  his  first  political  associations,  and  the 
natural  tendency  of  the  young  to  espouse  all  the  issues  of  a 
party,  right  or  wrong,  in  which  friends  have  perilled  their 
fortunes.  Without  changing  his  real  position,  he  only  tries 
to  distinguish  between  the  sour  fermentation  and  the  true 
leaven,  assured  that  candor  and  discretion  in  the  pursuit  of 
truth  afford  the  clearest  light  with  which  to  discern  it. 

The  sudden  change  from  a  subordinate  to  a  leader  must 
have  surprised  the  young  man,  and  surprised  as  well  as 
gratified  his  Fulneck  friends. 

He  thus  playfully  speaks  of  himself  and  the  new  paper  in 
a  letter  to  a  friend:  "You  were  no  doubt  astonished  when 
you  first  saw  my  name  annexed  to  the  -  Iris,  and  perhaps 


64  LIFE  OF  MONTGOMERY. 

still  more,  when  you  observed  the  humiliating  distance 
between  the  cringing,  trembling,  gouty  pace  of  our 
party-colored  messenger  of  the  gods,  and  the  noble,  firm 
and  manly  gait  of  the  late  lamented  Register.  I  cannot 
expect  that  the  Iris  will  ever  meet  with,  nor,  in  my 
opinion  deserve,  the  liberal  patronage  which  supported  the 
late  Register.  But  as  far  as  my  humble  abilities  can 
entertain  and  instruct  my  fellow  creatures,  I  am  determined 
to  exert  them  to  the  utmost  of  my  power  ;  and  as  I  cannot 
but  expect  my  eiforts  will  meet  with  at  least  as  much 
encouragement  as  they  merit,  I  shall  judge  of  their  deserts 
by  that  encouragement ;  and  if  I  fail  to  please,  I  will  cheer- 
fully resign  and  melt  into  obscurity."  , 


CHAPTER    V. 


POLITICAL  ENTANGLEMENTS  —  CIIARGE  OF  LIBEL  AGAINST  MONTGOM- 
ERY—  HIS  TRIAL — IMPRISONMENT  AT  YORK  CASTLE  —  RELEASE 
FROM   PRISON  —  SECOND   IMPRISONMENT. 


Montgomery  is  re-homed,  and  his  stay  at  Sheffield  has 
every  prospect  of  permanency  and  success.  While  he  occu- 
pies the  printing  office,  Mr.  Gales's  three  sisters  have  come 
from  Eckington  and  taken  the  bookstore :  like  a  beloved 
brother  he  is  received  into  their  household,  and  the  new 
establishment  at  the  Hartshead  is  bustling  with  youthful 
enterprise. 

Our  friend  had  trenched  himself  in  a  position  not  likely 
to  prove  dangerous,  while  it  was  one  of  sufficient  responsi- 
bility and  labor  to  call  forth  his  best  efforts  and  incite  to 
vigorous  self-improvement. 

"What  little  things  may  sometimes  cloud  our  sky  and 
bring  us  into  unlooked  for  straits,  he  will  himself  tells  us. 

"  Little  more  than  a  month  after  I  had  become  connected 
with  the  newspaper,  I  was  one  day  called  into  the  book- 
seller's shop,  where  business  orders  were  received.  There  I 
found  a  poor-looking  elderly  man,  whom  I  recollected  to 
have  seen  in  the  street  a  little  while  before,  when  I  was 
attracted  both  by  his  grotesque  appearance,  and  his  comical 
address,  as  a  ballad-monger.  He  stood  with  a  bundle  of 
pamphlets  in  his  hand,  crying  out  in  a  peculiar  tone,  '  Here 
you  have  twelve  songs  for  a  penny.'  Then  he  recapitulated 
6* 


66  LIFE   OF  MONTGOMERY. 

at  length  the  title  of  each,  thus :  '  The  first  song  in  the 
book  is '  —  so  and  so  ;  '  the  second  song  in  the  book » —  so 
and  so ;  '  the  third  song '  —  so  and  so  ;  and  on  he  went  '  so 
and  so  '  to  the  end  of  the  catalogue.  He  now  offered  me 
the  specimen  of  an  article  in  his  line,  and  asked  what  he 
must  pay  for  six  quires  of  the  same  ?  I  immediately  replied 
that  I  did  not  deal  in  such  commodities,  having  better 
employment  for  my  presses ;  he  must  therefore  apply  else- 
where (I  believe  I  named  a  place  where  he  might  be 
served).  *  But,'  he  rejoined,  like  one  who  had  some  know- 
ledge of  the  terms  used  by  printers,  c  you  have  this  standing 
in  your  office.'  i  That  is  more  than  I  know,'  was  my  answer. 
Taking  up  the  printed  leaf,  I  perceived  that  it  contained 
two  copies  of  verses,  with  each  of  which  I  had  been  long 
familiar,  but  had  never  seen  them  coupled  in  that  shape 
before ;  at  the  top  of  the  page  was  the  impression  of  a 
wood-cut  [Liberty  and  the  British  Lion],  which  I  recog- 
nized as  having  figured  in  the  frontispiece  of  an  extinct 
periodical,  issued  by  my  predecessor,  and  entitled  the 
Patriot.  The  paper  also,  of  which  a  large  stock  had 
devolved  to  me,  was  of  a  particular  kind,  being  the  material 
of  certain  forms  for  the  registration  of  freeholds,  under  a 
still-born  act  of  parliament,  printed  on  one  side  only,  and 
which  had  been  sold  for  waste.  On  discovering  this,  I 
went  up  into  the  office,  and  asked  when  and  for  whom  such 
things  as  I  held  in  my  hand  had  been  printed,  as  I  had  no 
knowledge  of  the  job  ?  i  Oh,  Sir,'  said  the  foreman,  '  they 
were  set  up  ever  so  long  ago  by  Jack  [Mr.  Gales's  appren- 
tice], for  himself,  and  to  give  away  to  his  companions ; 
and  the  matter  is  now  standing  in  the  types,  just  as  it 
was  when  you  bought  the  stock  in  the  office.'  '  Indeed !' 
I  exclaimed ;  '  but  how  came  the  ballad-seller,  who  was 
bawling  out  his  twelve  songs  for  a  penny  the  other  day,  to 


A    CHARGE    OF   LIBEL.  G7 

have  «i  copy  ? >  In  explanation  of  this,  he  stated,  that  he 
had  formerly  known  him,  when  he  himself  was  an  appren- 
tice in  an  office  in  Derby,  from  which  such  wares  were 
supplied  to  hawkers.  Hearing  his  voice  in  the  street,  he 
had  called  him  in  for  old-acquaintance  sake,  and,  in  the 
course  of  talking  about  trade,  had  shown  him  an  impression 
of  Jack's  songs,  by  which  he  thought  his  old  acquaintance 
might  make  a  few  pence  in  his  strange  way.  '  Well  then,' 
said  I,  '  let  the  poor  fellow  have  what  he  wants,  if  it  will  do 
him  any  good ;  but  what  does  he  mean  by  six  quires  f » 
'  Not  quires  of  whole  sheets,  but  six  times  twenty-four 
copies  of  this  size,'  was  the  information  I  received  on  this 
new  branch  of  literature.  I  then  went  down  stairs  and  told 
my  customer  that  he  might  have  the  quantity  he  wanted 
for  eighteen  pence,  which  would  barely  be  the  expense  of 
the  paper  and  working  off.  He  was  content ;  the  order 
was  executed,  the  parcel  delivered  by  myself  into  his  hand, 
and  honestly  paid  for  by  him.  I  have  often  said,  when  I 
have  had  occasion  to  tell  this  adventure  of  my  romantic 
youth  (for  adventure  it  was,  and  no  every-day  one,  as  the 
issue  proved),  that  if  ever  in  my  life  I  did  an  act  which  was 
neither  good  nor  bad,  or,  if  either,  rather  good  than  bad,  it 
was  this. 

"  Two  months  afterwards,  one  of  the  town  constables 
waited  upon  me,  and  very  civilly  requested  that  I  would 
call  upon  him  at  his  residence  in  the  adjacent  street.  Ac- 
cordingly I  went  thither,  and  asked  for  what  he  wanted  to 
see  me.  He  then  produced  a  magistrate's  warrant,  charg- 
ing me  with  having,  on  the  16th  day  of  August  preceding, 
printed  and  published  a  certain  seditious  libel  respecting  the 
war  then  raging  between  his  Majesty  and  the  French  Gov- 
ernment, entitled  '  A  patriotic  song,  by  a  clergyman  of 
Belfast.'      I  was   quite  puzzled  to  comprehend   what  pro- 


68  LIFE  OF  MONTGOMERY. 

duction  from  my  press  this  charge  alluded  to,  not  the 
remotest  idea  of  the  ballad-seller  occurring  to  me  at  the 
moment." 

A  copy  of  the  song  was  then  shown  him,  which  he 
instantly  recognized  as  the  same,  sold  unwittingly  from  his 
office,  certainly  not  with  any  intention  of  raising  a  political 
breeze. 

It  was  in  vain  that  Montgomery  explained  the  circum- 
stances of  the  case,  or  tried  to  show  that  it  could  not  be 
a  libel  upon  the  existing  war,  inasmuch  as  it  was  published 
long  before  hostilities  between  France  and  England  began ; 
it  having  been  composed  for  an  anniversary  celebration  of 
the  destruction  of  the  Bastile,  and  referring  solely  to  the 
invasion  of  France  by  the  Austrian  and  Prussian  armies 
under  the  Duke  of  Brunswick,  in  July,  1792. 

As  the  matter  took  a  serious  turn,  a  specimen  of  the 
song,  with  its  libellous  verse,  may  interest  those  curious  to 
inspect  the  "mingled  yarn"  in  our. web  of  life. 

"  While  tyranny  marshals  its  minions  around, 
And  bids  its  fierce  legions  advance, 
Fair  Freedom  !  the  hopes  of  thy  sons  to  confound, 
And  restore  his  old  empire  in  France, — 

What  friend  among  men  to  the  rights  of  mankind,' 

But  is  fired  with  resentment  to  see 
The  satraps  of  pride  and  oppression  combined 

To  prevent  a  great  land  being  free  ? 

Europe's  fate  on  the  contest's  decision  depends ; 

Most  important  its  issue  will  be, 
For  should  France  be  subdued,  Europe's  liberty  ends,  — 

If  she  triumphs,  the  world  will  be  free." 

The  last  was  the  sinning  stanza,  bristling  with  treason 
against  the  nation. 


HIS    TRIAL.  60 

Unexpectedly  Montgomery  finds  himself  in  the  clutches 
of  the  law,  and  arraigned  before  the  Sheffield  Sessions, 
charged  with  printing  and  publishing  a  false  and  scanda- 
lous libel  upon  the  present  just  and  necessary  war.  Plead- 
ing "Not  Guilty"  to  the  indictment,  bail  was  given,  and 
the  case  laid  over  to  the  Doncaster  Sessions,  a  few  months 
later.  Meanwhile,  through  the  columns  of  the  Tris,  he 
begged  his  friends  to  suspend  their  verdict,  avowing  his 
willingness  to  trust  his  cause  to  the  justice  and  intelligence 
of  a  British  jury. 

In  January,  1795,  the  Doncaster  Sessions  came  around. 
The  case  was  argued  with  no  inconsiderable  ability  and 
bitterness.  The  absurdity  of  seeking  to  ground  a  guilty 
intention  upon  an  act  so  simple  and  natural  was  strongly 
set  forth  by  the  defendant's  counsel. 

"  Did  his  client  foresee,  or  could  any  man  in  his  senses 
ever  dream  of  the  mighty  injury  that  was  charged  in  the 
indictment,  as  intended  to  have  been  done  by  the  publi- 
cation of  six  quires  of  a  song,  printed  long  before  the  pres- 
ent war  was  ever  thought  of?  My  client  was  applied  to 
by  this  Jordan,  to  print  six  quires  of  these  songs,  which  he 
agreed  to  print  for  eighteen  pence  !  Eighteen  pence !  six 
pennyworth  of  paper,  six  pennyworth  of  printing,  and  six 
pennyworth  of  profit!  Good  God!  "Will  any  man  be- 
lieve, in  times  like  the  present,  when  prosecutions  are  so 
frequent,  and  the  punishment  for  libels  so  severe,  that  a 
man  not  out  of  his  senses,  would  run  his  neck  into  such 
a  noose  for  sixpence !  —  would  hazard  his  liberty  by  pub- 
lishing anything  that  he  conceived  might  be  tortured  into 
sedition  for  such  a  pitiful  reward !  Surely  no !  Where 
then  is  the  intention  specified  in  the  indictment  ?  " 

But  in  vain. 

The  jurors  found,  that   "James  Montgomery,  printer, 


70  LIFE   OF   MONTGOMERY. 

being  a  wicked,  malicious,  seditious,  and  evil  disposed  per- 
son, and  well  knowing  the  premises,  but  wickedly,  mali- 
ciously, and  seditiously  contriving,  devising,  and  intending 
to  stir  up  and  excite  discontent  and  sedition  among  his 
Majesty's  subjects,  and  to  alienate  and  withdraw  the  affec- 
tion, fidelity,  and  allegiance  of  his  said  Majesty's  subjects 
from  his  said  Majesty;  and  unlawfully  and  wickedly  to 
seduce  and  encourage  his  said  Majesty's  subjects  to  resist 
and  oppose  his  said  Majesty's  government,  and  the  said 
war,"  etc.,  brought  in  their  verdict  "  Guilty."  Sentence 
was  immediately  passed,  —  three  months'  imprisonment  in 
the  Castle  of  York,  and  the  payment  of  a  fine  of  twenty 
pounds. 

The  next  day  he  was  taken  to  York,  with  a  modified 
estimate  of  the  jury  box,  we  may  venture  to  say.  His 
feelings  upon  the  trying  occasion  are  thus  disclosed  in  the 
Iris : 

"  My  trial  is  now  past.  The  issue  is  known.  To  a  ver- 
dict of  a  jury  of  my  countrymen  it  is  my  duty  to  bow 
with  the  deepest  reverence ;  to  the  sentence  of  the  law 
it  is  equally  my  duty  to  submit  with  silent  resignation. 
It  will  be  time  enough  to  murmur  and  repine,  when  I  am 
conscious  of  having  merited  punishment  for  real  transgres- 
sions. The  verdict  of  a  jury  may  pronounce  an  innocent 
person  'Guilty;'  but  it  will  be  remembered  that  a  verdict 
cannot  make  him  i  Guilty.'     .... 

"  To  a  generous  and  sympathising  public,  which  has  been 
so  exceedingly  interested  in  my  behalf,  I  owe  a  debt  of 
gratitude  which  the  future  services  of  my  wThole  life  can 
never  repay.  I  pledge  myself  never  to  relinquish  the 
cause  of  liberty,  justice,  and  humanity,  whilst  I  possess 
any  powers  of  mind  or  body  that  can  be  advantageous  to 
my  country. 


CONSOLATIONS   IN   CONFINEMENT.  71 

"  I  should,  however,  be  unworthy  of  the  name  of  a  mau, 
if  I  did  not,  on  the  present  occasion,  feel  the  weight  of  the 
blow  levelled  against  me ;  but  I  should  be  still  more  un- 
worthy of  that  character,  were  I  to  sink  under  it.  I  do 
feel,  but  I  will  not  sink.  Though  all  the  world  should  for- 
sake me,  this  consolation  can  never  fail  me,  that  the  great 
Searcher  of  Hearts,  whose  eye  watches  over  every  atom  of 
the  universe,  knows  every  secret  intention  of  my  soul :  and 
when  at  the  bar  of  eternal  justice  this  cause  shall  again  be 
tried,  I  do  indulge  the  humble  hope  that  his  approving 
voice  shall  confirm  the  verdict  which  I  feel  his  finger  has 
written  upon  my  conscience. 

"This  hope  shall  bear  me  through  my  present  misfor- 
tune; this  hope  shall  illuminate  the  walls  of  my  prison; 
shall  cheer  my  silent  solitude,  and  wing  the  melancholy 
hours  with  comfort.  Meanwhile,  the  few  months  of  my 
captivity  shall  not  be  unprofitably  spent.  The  Iris  shall 
be  conducted  upon  the  same  firm,  independent,  and  impar- 
tial principles,  which  have  secured  to  the  editor  so  great  a 
share  of  public  patronage.  Not  long  shall  I  be  separated 
from  my  friends;  their  remembrance  would  shorten  a  much 
longer  confinement.  Soon  shall  I  return  to  the  bosom  of 
society,  and  oh,  may  I  never  deserve  worse,  but  infinitely 
better,  of  my  country,  than  I  have  hitherto  done." 

The  trial  excited  more  than  ordinary  interest ;  the  tem- 
perate policy  of  the  Iris  and  the  personal  worth  of  the 
editor  were  a  priori  evidence  of  his  innocence,  offsetting 
the  natural  rashness  of  youth  (for  he  had  but  just  turned 
twenty-three),  if  rashness  had  formed  any  part  of  the  trans- 
action. 

His  business,  newly,  and  of  course  not  yet  firmly,  estab- 
lished, had  need  of  his  presence,  so  that  his  term  at  York 
was  likely  to  be  a  serious  drawback,  if  not  altogether 
ruinous  to  its  interests. 


72  LIFE   OF   MONTGOMERY. 

The  effect  of  confinement  upon  a  constitution  naturally 
delicate  occasioned  grave  apprehensions,  and  when  to  past 
vicissitudes  and  thickening  anxieties  was  added  the  charge 
of  crime,  no  wonder  if  his  courage  faltered,  and  he  became 
at  times  the  prey  of  deep  depression.  The  sympathy  of  the 
public  and  the  kind  offices  of  friendship  brought  their  heal- 
ing; conscious  integrity  buoyed  up  the  prisoner  with  its 
strong  supports,  while  his  pen  and  books  winged  the  lan- 
guid hours  of  confinement,  and  made  them  a  profitable 
period  of  mental  culture. 

"  God,  Truth,  and  Conscience,  are  for  you,  who  then  can 
be  against  you  ?  "  closed  an  address  to  him  from  a  debating 
society  of  which  he  was  a  member ;  "  your  sentence  is  a 
eulogy,  your  prison  is  a  palace." 

Of  his  prison  employments  he  does  not  distinctly  tell  us ; 
how  little  springs  of  enjoyment  unsealed  themselves  all 
along  by  the  way,  he  pleasantly  records; 

"  The  room  which  I  occupied  overlooked  the  Castle  walls 
and  gave  me  ample  views  of  the  adjacent  country,  then 
passing  from  the  forlornness  of  winter  to  the  first  blooms  of 
a  promising  spring.  From  my  window  I  was  daily  in  the 
habit  of  marking  these,  and  dwelt  with  peculiar  delight  on 
the  well-known  walk  by  the  river  Ouse,  where  stood  a  long 
range  of  well-grown  trees,  beyond  which,  on  the  left,  lay 
pasture  fields  that  led  towards  a  wooden  windmill,  the 
motion  and  configuration  of  whose  arms,  as  the  body  was 
turned  about,  east,  west,  north  and  south,  to  meet  the  wind 
from  every  point,  proved  the  source  of  very  humble,  but 
very  dear  pleasure  to  one  with  whom  it  was  ever  as  a 
living  thing,  —  the  companion  of  his  eye  and  the  inspirer 
of  his  thoughts,  having  more  than  once  suggested  grave 
meditations  on  the  vanity  of  the  world,  and  the  flight  of 
time. 


RELEASE    FROM    PRISON.  73 

"  During  such  reveries,  I  oftened  purposed  that  my  first 
ramble,  on  recovery  of  my  freedom,  should  be  down  by 
that  river,  under  those  trees,  across  the  fields  beyond,  and 
away  to  the  windmill.  And  so  it  came  to  pass.  One  fine 
morning,  in  the  middle  of  April,  I  was  liberated.  Imme- 
diately afterwards  I  sallied  forth,  and  took  my  walk  in  that 
direction,  —  from  whence,  with  feelings  which  none  but  an 
emancipated  captive  can  fully  understand,  I  looked  bach 
upon  the  castle  wralls,  and  to  the  window  of  that  very 
chamber  from  which  I  had  been  accustomed  to  look  for- 
ward, both  with  the  e}re  and  with  hope,  upon  the  ground 
which  I  was  now  treading,  with  a  spring  in  my  step  as 
though  the  very  soil  wrere  elastic  under  my  feet.  While  I 
■\vas  thus  traversing  the  fields,  not  with  any  apprehension 
of  falling  over  the  verge  of  the  narrow  footpath,  but  from 
mere  wantonness  of  instinct,  in  the  joy  of  liberty  long 
•wished  for,  and,  though  late,  come  at  last,  I  willfully 
diverged  from  the  track,  crossing  it  now  to  the  right,  then 
to  the  left,  like  a  butterfly  fluttering  here  and  there,  making 
a  long  course  and  little  way,  just  to  prove  my  legs,  that 
they  were  no  longer  under  restraint,  but  might  tread  where 
and  Jioio  they  pleased ;  and  that  I  myself  was  in  reality 
abroad  again  in  the  world,  —  not  gazing  at  a  section  of 
landscape  over  stone  walls  that  might  not  be  scaled ;  nor, 
when,  in  the  castle  yard,  the  ponderous  gates,  or  the  small 
wicket,  happened  to  be  opened  to  let  in  or  let  out  visitors 
or  captives,  looking  up  the  street  from  a  particular  point 
which  might  not  be  passed.  Now  to  some  wise  people 
this  may  appear  very  childish,  even  in  such  a  stripling  as 
I  was  then:  but  the  feeling  was  pure  and  natural,  and  the 
expression  innocent  and  graceful  as  every  unsophisticated 
emotion  and  its  spontaneous  manifestation  must  be." 

On  the  16th  of  April,  the  captive  is  free,  "twenty  pounds 
V 


74  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

out  of  pocket,  besides  all  the  vexation  and  misery  which  he 
had  suffered."  The  cost  of  the  trial  was  ninety  pounds, 
sixty  of  which  were  liquidated  by  his  friends.  No  blush  of 
shame  is  on  his  cheek,  no  stain  upon  his  name.  He  has 
only  touched  the  cup  which  some  of  England's  choicest- 
sons  have  drank  to  the  very  dregs. 

The  following  week  the  released  editor  greets  us  through 
the  columns  of  the  Iris,  and  his  cheerful  tone  falls  pleasantly 
on  the  ear.  There  is  nothing  of  the  whimpering  politician, 
or  a  disposition  to  make  capital  from  his  misfortunes ;  nor 
is  he  provoked  to  abandon  his  temperate  policy  by  any 
indignant  sense  of  wrong  and  injustice  done  him. 

"The  generous  sympathy  of  many,  very  many  friends, 
the  prevailing  sentiment  of  the  public  concerning  my  con- 
duct, and  my  misfortune,  and  the  conscious  approbation  of 
my  own  heart  rendered  my  confinement  less  irksome,  and 
far  more  agreeable  than  I  could  have  expected.  As  I  feel 
no  reason  to  blush  for  its  cause,  I  shall  never  regret  my 
imprisonment.  I  have  no  wish  to  complain  of  any  tem- 
porary inconveniences  or  mortifications  to  which  my  late 
prosecution  has  exposed  me:  for  even  my  enemies  have 
triumphed  less  over  my  fall  than  I  could  have  hoped  from 
their  former  disposition  towards  me,  while  the  generous 
indulgence  and  esteem,  however  little  merited,  of  the 
humane  and  the  virtuous,  have  most  abundantly  compen- 
sated for  all  my  sufferings.  One  solicitude  only  remains, 
and  while  gratitude  glows  in  my  heart  the  solicitude  will 
forever  remain,  that  I  may  not  prove  myself  unworthy  of 
that  share  of  public  and  private  kindness  which  I  have 
experienced  in  my  prison,  and  which  has  met  me  on  my 
return. 

"My  judgment  may  possibly  mislead  me,  but,  while  I 
have  no  other  aim  in  the  exercise  of  it  than  to  arrive  at 


NEW    ACTS    OF   PARLIAMENT.  75 

truth,  I  will  not  fear  any  consequences  which  may  follow 
from  pursuing  the  best  dictates  of  my  heart.  I  am  not 
conscious  of  being  influenced  by  any  of  those  violent  princi- 
ples which  have  been  imputed  to  me :  on  the  other  hand, 
I  detest  the  spirit  of  party  wherever  it  appears.  And, 
whilst  I  hope  I  can  make  reasonable  allowances  for  the 
prejudices  of  others,  I  am  determined  never  to  sacrifice  to 
those  prejudices,  on  any  side  of  any  question,  the  indepen- 
dence of  my  own  mind.  Whatever  some  persons  may  say 
or  think  of  me,  no  man  is  a  firmer  friend  either  to  his  king 
or  his  country  than  myself.  But  I  look  upon  loyalty  and 
patriotism  to  be  best  evinced  by  supporting  such  measures, 
and  such  only,  as  have  a  tendency  to  rectify  abuses,  and  to 
establish  the  true  honor  and  happiness  of  Britain  on  the 
solid  basis  of  Justice,  Peace,  and  Liberty." 

Moderation  and  manliness,  however,  did  not  save  him 
from  further  annovances.  And  nothing  discloses  more 
vividly  the  fermentation  of  public  feeling,  and  the  liability 
of  a  government  to  become  the  victim  of  its  own  suspicions 
and  jealousy,  than  many  of  the  prosecutions  which  took 
place  at  this  time. 

An  act  passed  Parliament  in  1795,  for  "the  safety  and 
preservation  of  his  Majesty's  person  and  government 
against  treasonable  and  seditious  practices  and  attempts," 
which  added  fuel  to  political  heats,  and  oj)ened  the  way  for 
fresh  outrages  upon  the  people. 

While  this  act,  with  one  for  "  preventing  seditious  meet- 
ings," was  passing  through  the  House,  the  Iris  spoke  of 
them  with  regret,  and  what  was  more  significant,  printed 
them  surrounded  by  a  mourning  border. 

During  the  winter  of '95,  the  severity  of  the  weather,  the 
scarcity  and  dearness  of  food,  together  with  the  check  to 
business  imposed  by  the  war,  aggravated  the  national  and 


7G  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

social  disquiet,  and  added  deeper  shades  to  the  general 
gloom.  It  was  indeed  one  of  those  straitened  periods  of 
national  life,  which  legislation  cannot  help.  Constrained 
into  a  necessary  but  unpopular  line  of  policy,  beholding  real 
evils  that  time  alone  can  right,  serious  attempts  to  chastise 
the  impatient  and  querulous  tempers  naturally  begot  by 
them,  too  often  throw  a  government  on  the  side  of  needless 
severities  and  unjust  retaliations,  and  divorce  it  from  the 
confidence  and  good  will  of  its  subjects. 

A  public  disturbance  took  place  in  Sheffield,  between  the 
military  and  the  people,  in  the  account  of  which  the  Iris 
was  accused  of  using  unseemly  language,  and  its  editor  is 
ao-ain  in  the  clutches  of  the  law. 

"  In  the  warrant  to  apprehend  me,"  he  writes  to  a  friend, 
"  I  was  charged  with  having  printed  and  published  '  a  gross 
misrepresentation  of  all  that  happened '  on  that  fatal  even- 
ing ;  and  further,  that  my  account  Avas  '  likely  to  stir  up 
commotions  among  the  people  and  disturb  the  peace  of  the 
town.'  This  charge,  as  ridiculous  as  false,  has  been  en- 
tirely dropped,  and  the  whole  has  been  cut  down  into  a 
miserable  charge  of  a  libel  on  the  character  of  our  redoubt- 
able military  magistrate,  —  without  one  syllable  about 
sedition  in  the  whole  indictment. 

"  It  was  both  prudent  and  politic  in  my  adversaries  to 
drop  the  most  serious  part  of  this  accusation  ;  for  a  friend 
of  mine  had  been  arrested  and  bound  over  to  Barnsley 
Sessions  for  affirming  in  the  public  streets,  and  in  the 
presence  of  the  justices  themselves,  that  the  men  shot  were 
murdered: — they  did  not  think  proper  even  to  prefer  a  bill 
against  him, !  Is  there  one  word  in  my  whole  paragraph 
which  conveys  so  severe  a  censure  on  the  hero  of  that 
evening  ?  No  ;  but  my  friend  is  a  vender  of  stockings, 
and  I  a  vender  of  newspapers :  the  prosecution  is  levelled 
against  the  Iris  —  they  are  determined  to  crush  it." 


IN    PitlSON    AGAIN.  77 

With  any  such  antecedent,  no  difficulty  would  be  found 
in  convicting  him,  and  James  Montgomery  is  again  sen- 
tenced to  six  months  in  the  Castle  of  York ;  to  pay  a  fine 
of  thirty  pounds  to  the  king  ;  and  to  give  security  for  his 
good  behaviour  for  two  years,  —  himself  in  a  bond  of  two 
hundred  pounds,  and  two  sureties  in  fifty  pounds  each. 

In  consideration  of  the  delicate  state  of  his  health,  the 
judges  recommend  leniency  of  treatment  and  every  indul- 
gence that  can  alleviate  the  necessary  evils  of  his  imprison- 
ment. But  to  York  he  again  goes  a  prisoner,  —  a  unique 
mode  of  requiting  good  citizens,  extremely  awkward  to 
respectability  and  virtue. 

His  paper,  of  which  he  was  then  sole  editor  (Mr.  Naylor 
having  withdrawn  from  the  concern  a  few  months  before), 
was  left  in  the  hands  of  J.  Pye  Smith,  who  generously 
undertook  its  management  during  his  absence. 

"Be  firm,  cool,  and  moderate,"  counsels  the  imprisoned 
editor  to  his  friend  ;  "  you  can  never  sink  into  dullness,  if  I 
estimate  your  talents  aright,  but  beware  of  being  hurried 
away  by  generous  indignation,  imprudent  zeal  for  truth,  or 
the  dread  of  censure  from  any  party." 

To  a  friend  he  writes :  — 

"Ere  now  you  have  read  my  trial,  and  know  my  fate. 
"Will  you  (though  our  personal  knowledge  of  each  other 
is  small)  believe  me  capable  of  publishing  a  willful  and  ma- 
licious falsehood,  which,  immediately  on  its  appearance, 
would  subject  me  to  all  the  vengeance  of  the  law;  and 
then,  to  support  it  and  screen  myself  from  justice,  can  you 
believe  that  I  could  corrupt  and  suborn  persons  of  fair  and 
honest  character  to  come  forward  as  perjured  witnesses  in 
my  behalf?  Unless  you  imagine  this,  I  know,  I  feel  your 
opinion. 

"  My  present  situation  here  may  be  described  in  a  few 
7* 


78  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

words :  the  times  are  so  flourishing  now,  as  compared  with 
this  time  last  year,  that,  instead  of  about  sixty  debtors 
confined  in  the  Castle,  the  place  overflows  with  double 
that  number;  and  other  prisoners  are  in  proportion.  I 
cannot,  on  any  terms,  procure  a  room  for  myself;  but  I 
have  the  certain  reversion  of  the  first  that  becomes  vacant. 
I  am  therefore  under  the  mortifying  necessity  of  taking  up 
my  quarters  among  persons  of  far  different  appearance 
from  those  with  whom  I  have  been  accustomed  to  asso- 
ciate ;  but  I  must  give  the  poor  men  their  due,  —  com- 
panions in  misfortune,  they  really  pay  me  the  greatest 
respect,  and  show  me  every  attention,  and  do  for  me 
every  service  in  their  power.  You  will  think  my  lot  a 
hard  one ;  but  is  there  no  consolation  at  hand  ?  Are  not 
these  gloomy  walls  an  asylum  from  the  fury  of  persecu- 
tions? At  home,  and  when  I  am  at  liberty,  it  is  evident 
I  am  never  safe:  here  I  am  well  secured !  why  then  com- 
plain? My  dear  friend,  the  worst  is  over.  The  torture 
of  the  trial,  the  journey  hither,  the  horror  on  entering 
this  den  of  despair,  but,  above  all,  the  lingering  agony 
of  suspense  which  has  preyed  upon  my  heart,  and  drained 
my  spirits  dry,  is  past.  The  succeeding  six  months  of  my 
dreary  confinement  here  cannot  be  more  melancholy  than 
the  past  six :  to  hnow  the  worst  is  far  less  terrible  than  to 
dread  the  worst.  My  paper  warns  me  to  drop  my  pen. 
Pray  write  with  your  usual  freedom  —  my  letters  are  not 

inspected. 

"  Your  sincere  friend, 

"J.  MONTGOMEUY. 

"  Joseph  Aston,  Manchester." 


CHAPTER    VI. 

PRISON  LIFE  —  LETTER  TO  JOSEPH  ASTON  —  "PRISON  AMUSEMENTS." 
RELINQUISHES  POLITICS  —  POLITICAL  FACTIONS  —  VISIT  TO  YORK 
CASTLE  —  LETTERS  TO  MR.  ASTON — ANXIETY  AND  DEPRESSION  — 
RELIGIOUS   IMPRESSIONS. 

A  peep  within  prison  doors  does  not  necessarily  disclose 
haggard  faces  and  remorseful  consciences.  Montgomery 
unlocks  York  Castle,  and  gives  us  a  glance  at  his  respec- 
table compeers : 

"In  this  building  there  are  four  well-behaved  persons, 
who  have  lived  in  the  most  respectable  circles,  and  seen 
better  days ;  and  also  eight  of  the  people  called  Quakers, 
who  are  confined  for  refusing  to  j>ay  tithes,  though  they 
never  did  nor  ever  would  have  resisted  the  seizure  of 
their  property  to  any  amount  the  rapacious  priest  required. 
There  are  three  venerable  greyheaded  men  among  them, 
and  the  others  are  very  decent  and  sensible.  One  of  the 
old  Quakers  is  my  principal  and  my  best  companion  ;  a 
very  gay,  shrewd,  cheerful  man,  with  a  heart  as  .honest  and 
as  tender  as  his  face  is  clear  and  smiling.  My  time,  on  the 
whole,  passes  away  in  a  smooth  and  easy  manner.  I  em- 
ploy myself  in  reading,  writing,  walking,  etc.,  and  never,  on 
the  whole,  enjoyed  better  spirits  in  my  life.  My  friends  at 
Sheffield  are  become  almost  enthusiastic  in  my  favor ;  their 
number  is  greatly  increased;  my  enemies  are  silent,  and 
many  of  the  most  bitter  have  relented :  I  do  not  believe 
there  are  ten  persons  who  will  venture  to  say  I  have  not 


80  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

been  most  cruelly  and  unjustly  abused.  My  business, 
which  I  confess  was  and  is  my  greatest  cause  of  concern 
and  anxiety,  on  account  of  its  intricacy,  and  the  care  re- 
quired in  its  management,  has  hitherto  gone  on  with 
almost  unprecedented  smoothness  and  success.  My  health, 
as  I  think  I  informed  you  before,  has  been  very  indifferent. 
.  .  .  What  I  am  yet  doomed  to  suffer  from  it,  God  only 
knows ! " 

James  Montgomery  to  Mr.  J.  P.  Smith. 

"  York  Castle,  May  1,  1796 
"My  dear  Friend, 

"  My  captivity  now  begins  to  decline  down  the  hill,  and 
I  shall  only  have  nine  weeks  to  stay  here  on  Tuesday  next ; 
but  I  fear  I  shall  not  return  immediately  to  Sheffield :  the 
doctors  here  say  it  will  be  absolutely  necessary  for  me  to 
go  then  to  Scarborough,  for  the  benefit  of  sea-bathing  and 
drinking,  at  lea*St  a'Tortnight.  Of  this  I  apprise  you  thus 
early,  that  if  I  should  be  obliged  to  go  there,  you  may  be 
prepared  to  indulge  me  with  your  kind  and  valuable  ser- 
vices a  few  weeks  longer  than  we  expected.  .  .  .  The 
management  and  arrangement  of  the  Iris  has  continued 
to  afford  me  much  satisfaction.  I  shall  tremble  when  I 
resume  it  with  my  own  hands,  lest  its  credit  should  fall 
with  the  resignation  of  its  present  editor.  But  tell  that 
editor  from  me  not  to  hack  and  hew  Pitt  quite  so  much 
in  the  London  news,  and  to  be  particularly  careful  in  the 
Sheffield  news,  not  to  insert  any  home  occurrence  without 
the  most  indubitable  authority." 

"  My  time  of  confinement  draws  to  a  close,"  he  writes 
again,  "  but  my  sentence  is  a  Cerberus  with  three  heads — 
fine,  imprisonment,  and  bail.  Thus  even  when  I  leave  this 
dreadful  place,  after  six  months'  confinenment,  and  paying 


LETTER  TO  JOSEPH  ASTON.         81 

thirty  pounds,  I  am  still  to  be  indebted  to  two  friends  for 
the  miserable  privilege  of  being  a  prisoner  at  large  two 
years  longer!  I  cannot  think  with  patience  on  the  sub- 
ject ;  but  I  must  submit ;  and  it  is  as  well  to  do  so  with 
a  good  grace  as  with  a  bad  one.  I  hope  to  be  released  on 
the  5th  of  July ;  and  in  a  fortnight  afterwards  shall  prob- 
ably be  once  more  in  Sheffield.  I  wonder  what  evil  stal- 
led me  thither  at  first !  I  propose  to  spend  a  fortnight  at 
Scarboro'.  Farewell;  and  may  you  enjoy  health,  peace, 
and  every  temporal  prosperity  in  the  bosom  of  your  family 
and  among  your  friends,  without  ever  being  torn  from 
them  as  I  have  been !  " 

The  5th  of  July  set  him  free,  and  he  thus  descants  of 
the  sweets  of  freedom : 

James  Montgomery  to  Joseph  Aston. 

"  Scarboro',  July  10,  1796. 
"  My  dear  Feiend, 

"On  Tuesday  last  I  was  duly  liberated  from  my  long  and 
cruel  captivity,  and  the  same  evening  arrived  at  this  de- 
lightful place.  A  greater  contrast  can  scarcely  be  imag- 
ined than  the  narrow  circumference  of  a  prison  and  the 
boundless  immensity  of  the  ocean.  I  am  charmed  with 
the  romantic  beauties  of  this  place,  and  my  only  employ- 
ment here  is  to  admire  them  —  and  to  wish  to  leave  them 
all,  to  return  home  as  speedily  as  possible ;  thus  in  no  situ- 
ation of  life  have  I  ever  met  with  unmixed  happiness! 
But  shadow  relieves  the  glare  of  light ;  the  bitter  corrects 
the  sweet ;  and  solicitude  softens  the  tone  of  bliss,  which 
might  otherwise  transport  a  simple  lad  like  me  beyond  the 
narrow  limits  of  his  reason.  Part  —  I  may  say  the  great- 
est part  —  of  the  pleasure  which  I  experienced  on  the  day 
of  my  enlargement,  arose  from  the  solacing  idea  that  you 


82  LIFE   OF    MONTGOMERY. 

and  many  other  dear  and  absent  friends  were  then  —  per- 
haps at  the  very  moment  of  my  release  —  congratulating 
me  in  spirit,  and  welcoming  the  captive  on  his  resurrection 
from  the  tomb  of  despondency.  If  you  enjoyed  my  feel- 
ings by  sympathy,  I  also  participate  of  your  sensations  by 
the  same  pleasing  emotion  of  the  soul. 

"To  me  the  magnificence  of  the  ocean  and  the  awful 
grandeur  of  these  winding  and  mountainous  shores  are 
almost  entirely  new  spectacles ;  for  though  I  was  born  in  a 
sea-port,  I  have  never  had  the  opportunity  of  contempla- 
ting such  sublime  objects  since  I  first  came  to  England,  at 
the  age  of  five  years.  Though  I  am  very  weak,  and  easily 
overset,  I  for  that  very  reason,  as  much  as  for  curiosity, 
fatigue  myself  with  rambling  from  morning  till  night.  I 
have  more  than  once  endangered  my  neck,  by  climbing 
the  precipices  overshadowing  the  shore;  and  it  is  not  im- 
probable that  I  may  yet  make  a  fraction  of  my  head  or 
reduce  my  bones  to  decimals  in  some  of  my  wanderings. 

"  I  hope  to  put  the  last  touch  to  my  novel  here  —  per- 
haps by  conveying  it  to  the  fire ;  if  it  should  escape  mar- 
tyrdom, —  and  really  it  is  not  worthy  of  that  honor — I 
may  perhaps  find  some  opportunity  of  conveying  it  to  you 
before  I  venture  to  print  it  for  the  benefit  of  trnnkmakers 
and  pastry  cooks !  I  have  some  thought  of  publishing,  as 
an  experiment,  a  collection  of  bagatelles  produced  in  York 
Castle,  under  the  title  of  Prison  Amusements,  by  P.  P. 
What  think  you  ?  The  readers  of  the  Iris  have  not  been 
disappointed  in  them.  "Will  that  million-headed  Hydra,  the 
public,  accept  the  sop  and  not  worry  the  poor  author  into 
the  bargain  ?  " 

Of  the  literary  achievements  alluded  to  in  this  letter,  the 
novel,  one  of  his  London  stories  revised,  never  came  to 
light.     Prison  Amusements  made  their   appearance,    in- 


"PRISON    AMUSEMENTS."  83 

troducing  us  to  the  Piccioli  which  beguiled  the  tediousness 
of  his  captivity.  And  if  they  have  not  the  moral  signifi- 
cance of  Bunyan's  Spider  in  Bedford  Jail,  or  the  delicious 
richness  of  the  "herb  of  grace"  in  the  walls  of  Fones- 
trella,  they  show  that  the  grim  enclosures  of  York  Castle 
were  not  altogether  barren  of  wayside  interests. 

What  says  the  prisoner  ?    Besides  the  Wag-tail  and  the 
Red-breast, 

"  Lo !  my  frisking  clog  attends, 
The  kindest  of  four-footed  friends ; 
Brim-full  of  giddiness  and  mirth, 
He  is  the  prettiest  fool  on  earth. 
The  rogue  is  twice  a  squirrel's  size, 
With  short  snub  nose  and  big  black  eyes ; 
A  cloud  of  brown  adorns  his  tail, 
That  curls  and  serves  him  for  a  sail, 
The  same  deep  auburn  dyes  his  ears, 
That  never  were  abridged  by  shears ; 
While  white  around,  like  Lapland  snows, 
His  hair  in  soft  profusion  flows. 
A  thousand  antic  tricks  he  plays, 
And  looks  at  once  a  thousand  ways ; 
His  wit,  if  he  has  any,  lies 
Somewhere  between  his  tail  and  eyes ; 
Sooner  the  light  those  eyes  will  fail, 
Than  Billy  cease  to  wag  his  tail. 

A  melancholy  stag  appears, 

With  woful  look  and  fla^im*  ears: 

A  feeble,  lean,  consumptive  elf, 

The  very  picture  of  myself! 

Blasted  like  me,  by  fortune's  frown  ; 

Like  me,  twice  hunted,  twice  run  down, 

Still  on  his  painful  limbs  are  seen 

The  scars  where  worrying  dogs  have  been  ; 


84  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

Still  on  his  woe-imprinted  face, 
I  weep,  a  broken  heart  to  trace. 
What  rocks  and  tempests  yet  await 
Both  him  and  me,  we  leave  to  fate ; 
We  know,  by  past  experience  taught, 
That  innocence  availeth  nought : 
I  feel,  and  't  is  my  proudest  boast, 
That  conscience  is  itself  a  host ; 
While  this  inspires  my  swelling  breast, 
Let  all  forsake  me  —  I  'm  at  rest : 
Ten  thousand  deaths  in  every  nerve, 
I  'd  rather  suffer  than  deserve." 

His  feelings,  on  resuming  the  editorial  chair,  are  thus 
portrayed  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  Aston : 

"  Sheffield,  Aug.  6,  179C. 

"  My  dear  Friend, 

"  The  post  that  brings  you  this  hasty  effusion,  will  also 
convey  to  you  a  welcome  paper  message  from  an  old  friend 
of  yours  and  mine,  whom  vindictive  persecution  drove 
from  his  native  country  to  seek  an  asylum  in  a  land  where 
some  traces  of  liberty  may  yet  be  found.  How  often 
have  I  repented  my  madness  in  not  following  his  fortunes, 
though  warmly  invited  !  But,  in  truth,  I  am  not  partial 
to  America,  and  I  believe  I  shall  never  emigrate  thither 
till  banished  by  imperious  necessity ;  and  God  grant  that 
moment  may  never  arrive.  I  love  England,  with  all  its 
disadvantages,  its  cares,  vexations,  horrors,  —  perhaps  my 
misfortunes  themselves  have  only  endeared  me  the  more 
to  my  native  island. 

"I  am  once  more,  as  you  will  have  seen  by  the  last  Tris, 
returned  to  this  town.  I  confess  frankly  to  you,  that  I  feel 
a  degree  of  dread  and  anxiety,  which  weighs  down  my 
spirits  exceedingly,  on  my  re-embarking  in  business,  and 


RELINQUISHES     POLITICS.  85 

again  becoming  the  bntt  of  malice  and  the  mark  of  envy. 
A  public  character  is  always  on  the  pillory,  exposed  to  the 
jeers  and  taunts,  the  rotten  eggs  and  brickbats  of  the  mob 
of  mankind,  who  are  never  so  happy  as  when  they  are 
making  those  whom  they  feel  to  be  above  them  miserable. 
I  love  fame  ;  but  I  cannot  afford  to  pay  the  price  at  which 
it  must  be  purchased.  This  luxury,  like  all  the  necessaries 
of  life,  is  now  so  much  advanced  in  price,  that  gold  alone 
—  not  virtue,  wit,  or  genius  —  can  procure  it.  I  have 
now  determined  to  hazard  the  publication  of  my  Prison 
Amusements,  and  may  probably  add  some  other  trifles." 

"I  am  divorced  from  politics,"  he  says  again,  "as  I  think 
you  yourself  may  perceive  by  the  complexion  of  my  news- 
paper for  these  several  months  past.  I  will  never  sacrifice 
my  independence,  nor  will  I  join  the  hue  and  cry  of  any 
party.  My  principles  are  precisely  the  same  as  they  al- 
ways have  been  since  I  could  distinguish  good  and  evil ; 
but  I  trust  I  understand  them  better,  and  shall  be  enabled 
in  future  to  practice  them  with  equal  openness,  but  with 
more  circumspection  than  formerly." 

His  object  more  than  ever  is  to  quit  politics,  whose  party 
strifes  and  acrimonious  spirit  gave  him,  at  times,  exquisite 
pain. 

To  maintain,  however,  the  neutrality  of  his  paper,  often 
called  for  fighting  no  less  vigorous  than  that  waged  be- 
tween the  factions  themselves.  The  plaint  of  Watts  he 
could,  in  truth,  adopt  — 

"  Peace  is  the  blessing  that  I  seek 
How  lovely  are  its  charms ! 
I  am  for  peace ;  but  when  I  speak, 
They  all  declare  for  arms. 


86  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

New  passions  still  their  souls  engage, 

And  keep  their  malice  strong : 
"What  shall  be  done  to  curb  thy  rage, 

O  thou  devouring  tongue  ! " 

A  more  congenial  topic  happily  courted  the  favor  of  the 
Iris,  which,  for  a  while,  divided  with  politics  the  public 
mind  of  Sheffield. 

This  was  the  endowment  and  opening  of  a  General  In- 
firmary around  whose  corner-stone  all  parties  grounded 
their  arms,  and  yielded  to  the  beneficent  influences  of  the 
occasion. 

The  theatre  gave  it  a  benefit ;  an  epilogue,  written  by 
Montgomery,  made  earnest  plea  in  behalf  of  the 

"  friendly  dome, 


For  want  a  refuge,  for  disease  a  home, 
Bidding  the  springs  of  consolation  flow 
Through  every  channel  of  diffusive  woe." 

The  interest  of  the  young  editor  in  the  new  institution 
introduced  him  to  the  friendship  of  one  of  the  city  fathers, 
whose  friendship  it  was  a  privilege  and  an  advantage  to 
enjoy. 

Again  rings  the  tocsin  of  parties ;  and  thus  writes 
Montgomery  to  his  Manchester  friend,  Mr.  Aston  :  — 

"  Sheffield,  March  6,  1798. 
"  Dear  Friend, 

"...     I  have  been  nearly  crazed  during  the  last 

fortnight  with  the  din  of  jarring  politicians.     The  mania  of 

Voluntary  Contributions    towards   the   promotion  of  this 

detestable  Avar,  has  seized  upon  the  inhabitants  of  Sheffield, 

as  well  as  in  other  loyal  towns.      There  are,  however,  some 

persons  of  the  greatest  wealth  and  consequence  here,  who 

warmly  oppose  the  measure.     A  kind  of  paper  warfare  has 


CONTENDING   POLITICAL   FACTIONS.  87 

been  earned  on  between  the  two  parties  ;  I  have  been 
employed  by  the  champions  on  both  sides  of  the  question, 
and  have  not  objected  to  print  rules,  advertisements,  <fcc, 
for  either  the  one  or  the  other.  But  determined,  at  all 
events^  to  preserve  the  independence  of  the  Iris,  I  have 
peremptorily  rejected  overtures  from  both  sides  to  insert 
essays  and  paragraphs  either  for  or  against  the  measure. 
This  has  exposed  me  to  a  great  deal  of  censure  and  illiber- 
ality  from  the  violent  of  both  parties ;  I  have  been  alter- 
nately coaxed  and  threatened  by  each,  but  have  hitherto 
inflexibly  resisted  their  importunities  and  despised  their 
menaces.  Circumstances  of  this  kind,  however  tranquil  or 
moderate  I  may  appear  in  public,  wound  me  in  private  to 
the  quick.  I  am  too  humble  to  despise  the  good  opinion 
of  the  most  insignificant  of  human  beings,  but  I  am  too 
proud  to  purchase  patronage  from  the  most  exalted  by 
meanness  and  servility.  On  calmly  reviewing  my  conduct, 
I  am  perfectly  satisfied  with  it  on  this  occasion  ;  but  the 
exertion  of  such  a  haughty  spirit  of  independence  has  cost 
me  inconceivable  agony  of  mind.  When  this  ferment  has 
subsided,  I  believe  I  shall  not  have  lost  one  well-wisher 
whose  friendship  was  worth  preserving." 

lie  would  willingly  have  been  silent  on  the  subject, 
but  neutrality  seemed  at  last  out  of  the  question.  A 
gentleman  of  influence  sent  in  a  paragraph  avouching  the 
"  general  and  very  spirited  support "  given  to  the  Volun- 
tary Subscription,  "  equalled  to  the  warmest  wishes  of  its 
advocates,"  which  he  wished  Montgomery  to  publish  as  his 
own.  The  following  week,  another,  on  directly  opposite 
ground,  was  handed  in  with  a  similar  request,  both  of 
which  were  inserted  in  the  Iris  with  a  fearless  disclaimer  on 
the  part  of  the  editor,  that  neither  contained  an  expression 
of  his  own  views,  and  that  he  would  not  give  his  adhesion 


88  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

to  either  side ;  the  most  difficult  stand  of  all  others  to  main- 
tain, as  he  who  has  struggled  against  being  appropriated  by 
two  contending  factions,  well  knows. 

"  In  whatever  light  the  conduct  of  the  editor  of  the  Iris 
may  be  viewed  by  others,"  says  the  young  man  in  his  little 
sheet,  "  he  is  determined  to  regulate  it  entirely  by  the  dic- 
tates of  his  own  conscience.  Then,  if,  while  sailing  between 
the  wind  of  one  party  and  the  waves  of  another,  the  little 
vessel  in  which  he  and  his  fortunes  are  embarked  should  be 
wrecked  upon  Scylla,  or  engulfed  in  Charybdis,  he  may 
smile  at  destruction,  and  exclaim,  with  triumphant  tranquil- 
ity, '  I  teas  not  bom,  I  have  not  livedo  I  shall  not  die,  a 
Demagogue  or  a  Parasite  ! ' " 

The  determined  position  of  Montgomery  not  to  adopt 
and  advocate  the  special  policies  of  a  party,  unless  he  sin- 
cerely believed  in  them  himself,  did  at  this  time  cost  him  a 
friend.  The  gentleman  already  alluded  to  could  not  move 
the  staunch  little  poet :  patronage  had  a  price,  but  he  could 
not  be  bought  with  it ;  and  he  unhesitatingly  gave  up  its 
friendly  aids,  rather  than  sacrifice  his  principles  and  his 
independence. 

Tracing  his  steps  by  the  light  which  he  gives  us,  we  find 
him  a  year  after  his  liberation  revisiting  the  scenes  of  his 
captivity. 

"  Being  summoned  to  attend  a  meeting  of  printers  at 
Tadcaster,  I  could  not  resist  the  temptation  of  proceeding 
from  thence  to  York,  to  revisit  the  place  of  my  captivity  ; 
to  hail  the  venerable  walls  of  my  bastile  ;  and  once  more 
enjoy  '  the  pleasures  of  imprisonment. '  There  is  a  tender, 
melancholy  pleasure  in  reviewing  past  misfortunes,  and 
tracing  the  scenes  where  we  have  formerly  suffered.  I  feel 
an  affection  for  every  spot  of  ground  where  I  have  been 
unhappy ;  an   attachment   even   to   the   dungeon  which  I 


VISIT    TO    YORK   CASTLE.  80 

entered  with  horror,  and  quitted  with  transport :  but  dear 
to  my  very  soul  is  the  snug  little  apartment  which  I  occu- 
pied during  the  last  five  months  of  my  captivity ;  —  the  cage 
in  which  I  sang  of  sorrow,  till  sorrow  became  familiar  and 
delightful !  O,  my  dear  friend,  when  distracted  with  the 
cares  of  business,  and  wounded  with  the  disappointments 
of  life,  I  look  back  with  tender  recollection  on  my  prison 
hours ;  and  had  you  not  laughed  me  out  of  crying,  in  your 
critique  on  my  novel,  I  could  weep  that  they  were  past.  I 
could  fill  a  sheet  with  my  observations  and  reflections,  as  I 
rambled  round  the  Castle-yard,  and  recognized  the  pleasing 
animals,  my  former  fellow-prisoners,  who  grazed  on  the 
green,  and  which  I  used  to  feed  with  my  hands.  The  buck 
—  the  poor,  battered,  miserable  buck  —  is  grown  plump, 
and  strong,  and  beautiful ;  and,  I  am  informed,  is  a  very 
good  husband  to  Nanny  the  doe,  one  of  my  most  favorite 
companions ;  —  she  will  soon  become  a  mother.  The  little 
dog,  who  forsook  his  friends  and  family  in  the  city  to  come 
and  live  with  me,  happened  to  be  in  the  yard  with  his  mas- 
ter when  I  entered  ;  he  recognized  me  in  a  moment,  sprung 
into  my  arms,  and  almost  devoured  me  with  joy  !  " 

"  Scarcely  a  day  passes,"  he  afterwards  writes  to  Henry 
Wormall,  one  of  his  Quaker  prison  friends,  "  but  you 
occupy  some  place  in  my  thoughts.  As  often  as  I  remem- 
ber York  Castle,  I  always  call  to  mind  the  many  pleasing, 
peaceful  hours  we  spent  together  there.  How  happy 
should  I  be  to  know  that  you  were  now,  like  myself,  recall- 
ing the  scenes  of  that  dreadful  place,  like  a  dream  that  is 
past !  But  to  the  will  of  the  Supreme  Disposer  of  all  events 
we  must  patiently  and  humbly  submit.  He  who  is  Omni- 
present, is  felt  in  the  dungeon  as  much  [as  surely]  as  in 
heaven  itself;  and  He,  who  can  do  all  things,  can  make  a 
prison  a  paradise.  Such  I  doubt  not  you  have  often  found 
8* 


90  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

it ;  such  I  hope  you  find  it  every  clay ;  and  such  I  most 
earnestly  pray  you  may  always  find  it,  while  your  lot  is  cast 
within  those  gloomy  Avails." 

The  long  letter  closes  with,  "  give  poor  Nanny,  and  Billy, 
and  Ralph,  each  a  crust  of  bread  in  my  name,  and  tell  the 
gulls  I  have  not  forgotten  them." 

Again  he  says  a  few  months  later  :  —  "  Whenever  I  am 
uneasy  and  afflicted  at  home,  which  is  very  often  the  case  — 
for  you  know  yourself  that  I  am  too  apt  to  be  gloomy  and 
discontented  —  when  I  am  thus,  I  immediately  look  back  at 
York  Castle,  and  picture  to  myself  those  moments  in  it 
when  I  was  the  most  miserable.  When,  on  the  contrary,  I 
am  cheerful  and  contented  in  mind,  I  fly  back  with  pleasure 
to  my  little  room  in  your  building.  I  fancy  I  see  you  seat- 
ed beside  me,  smoking  your  pipe  and  winding  your  cotton, 
with  poor  Billy  lying  at  our  feet ;  and  though  we  are  many 
miles  asunder  at  present,  and  perhaps  may  never,  never 
meet  again,  I  sometimes  imagine  our  old  conversations 
restored,  and  think  we  are  unfolding  our  hearts  to  each 
other.  The  remembrance  of  these  things  will  be  one  of  the 
principal  pleasures  of  my  future  life,  whether  it  be  marked 
as  hitherto,  with  trials  and  persecutions,  or  whether  better, 
more  delightful  days  await  me.  Absence,  instead  of  Aveak- 
ening  the  respect  and  attachment  which  1  conceived  for 
you  in  prison,  has  strengthened,  and,  in  proportion  as  the 
time  becomes  distant  will,  I  hope,  strengthen  it  more  and 
more. 

"  I  have  observed,  with  much  concern,  the  slow  progress 
of  the  Bill  now  before  the  House  of  Commons,  in  your 
favor:  it  is  adjourned,  and  adjourned  again,  so  often,  and 
under  such  trifling  pretences,  that  I  do  really  fear  it  will 
never  even  reach  the  House  of  Lords.  I  believe  you  are 
prepared  for  the  worst,  Henry,  and  that  you  are  as  much 


LETTERS   TO    MR.    ASTON.  91 

resigned  as  a  man  and  a  Christian  ought  to  be  under  such 
severe  and  undeserved  calamity.  I  wish  for  your  deliver- 
ance ;  but  if  that  wish  must  not  be  gratified,  I  wish  you 
may  always  be  enabled,  even  in  the  agonizing  hours  of  sick- 
ness, and  perhaps  of  death,  to  bear  your  sufferings  —  or 
rather  to  triumph  over  them — with  as  much  fortitude  as 
you  have  hitherto  done.  I  hope  your  worthy  friends  and 
brethren  in  misfortune  support  their  spirits  and  submit  to 
their  cruel  and  infamous  fate  with  their  wonted  cheerful- 
ness. Remember  me  most  kindly  to  them  all,  and  assure 
them  of  my  warm  and  undiminished  friendship." 

"  I  am  anxious  to  hear  your  opinion  concerning  the  late 
events  in  France,"  he  writes  to  Aston.  "  I  know  not  pre- 
cisely whether  my  reflections  in  the  Iris  on  that  subject 
have  been  just :  I  wrote  them,  I  can  honestly  say,  with  at 
least  as  much  sincerity  as  warmth ;  —  but  the  aristocrats 
extol  them  to  the  skies ;  they  are  praised  by  all  the  pow- 
dered pates  in  Sheffield ;  and  the  Iris  is  now  called  an 
excellent,  an  admirable,  a  constitutional  paper !  Praise 
from  such  a  quarter  almost  inclines  me  to  suspect  that  I 
have  gone  too  far  ;  but  my  conscience  sanctions  every  syl- 
lable which  my  heart  dictated  on  the  occasion.  I  hate  and 
abhor  tyranny  under  every  form,  and  in  every  shape  ;  but 
in  none  so  much  as  under  a  republican  disguise :  the  mon- 
ster then  becomes  a  hydra  with  a  million  heads."  In  a  long 
letter  of  a  later  date,  he  says  to  the  same  correspondent : 
—  "You  do  not  know  the  thousandth  part  of  me.  lam 
dull,  melancholy,  and  phlegmatic  by  nature  ;  and  am  grown 
indolent  and  ill-humored  by  habit.  Disappointments  at 
which  you  would  laugh,  in  the  early  period  of  my  life  have 
sickened  all  my  hopes,  and  clouded  all  my  prospects ;  my 
mind  is  grown  quite  hypochondriacal  ;  and  sunk  in  listless- 
ness,  or  only  roused  occasionally  by  the  horrors  of  religious 


92  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

feelings,  I  languish  away  life  without  comfort  to  myself,  or 
benefit  to  others." 

Reviewing  this  period  of  his  checkered  life,  and  the  disap- 
pointments, which  were  but  blessings  in  disguise,  he  writes ; 
"In  the  retirement  of  Fulneck,  I  was  as  ignorant  of  the  world 
and  its  every  day  concerns,  as  the  gold-fishes  swimming 
about  in  the  glass  globe  before  us  are  of  what  Ave  are  doing 
around  them,  and  when  I  took  the  rash  step  of  running 
into  the  vortex,  I  was  nearly  as  little  prepared  for  the> 
business  of  general  life  as  they  would  be  to  take  part  in  our 
proceedings. 

"  The  experience  of  something  more  than  two  years  had 
awakened  me  to  the  unpoetical  realities  around  me,  and  I 
was  left  to  struggle  alone  amid  the  crowd,  without  any  of 
those  inspiring  motives  left  to  cheer  me,  under  the  delusive 
influence  of  which  I  had  flung  myself  amidst  scenes  and 
into  society  for  which  I  was  wholly  unfit  by  feeling,  taste, 
habit,  or  bodily  constitution.  Thus  I  came  to  Sheffield, 
with  all  my  hopes  blighted  like  the  leaves  and  blossoms  of 
a  premature  spring.  There  was  yet  life,  but  it  was  a  per- 
verse, unnatural  life ;  and  the  renown  which  I  found  to  be  un- 
attainable, at  that  time,  by  legitimate  poetry,  I  resolved  to 
secure  by  such  means  as  made  many  of  my  contemporaries 
notorious.  I  wrote  verses  in  the  doggerel  strain  of  Peter 
Pindar,  and  prose  sometimes  in  imitation  of  Fielding  and 
Smollett,  and  occasionally  in  the  strange  style  of  the  Ger- 
man plays  and  romances  then  in  vogue.  Effort  after  effort 
failed.  A  Providence  of  disappointment  shut  every  door 
in  my  face,  by  which  I  tried  to  force  my  way  to  a  dis- 
honorable fame.  I  was  thus  happily  saved  from  appearing 
the  author  of  works  which,  at  this  hour,  I  should  have 
been  ashamed  to  acknowledge.  Disheartened  at  length 
with  ill  success,  I  gave  myself  up  to  indolence  and  apathy, 


ANXIETY  AND    DEPRESSION.  93 

and  lost  some  years  of  that  part  of  my  youth  which  ought 
to  have  been  most  active  and  profitable,  using  little  exertion 
in  my  office  affairs  save  what  was  necessary  to  keep  up  my 
credit  under  heavy  pecuniary  obligations,  and  gradually, 
though  slowly,  to  liquidate  them." 

To  his  Manchester  correspondent  he  more  fully  discloses 
the  secret  unrest  of  his  inner  life. 

"  Since  I  wrote  you  last,  I  have  suffered  much  anxiety 
and  enjoyed  little  repose  in  my  own  bosom.  I  feel  myself, 
at  the  present  moment,  between  ten  and  twelve  o'clock  on 
Saturday  night,  moralizing  and  melancholy.  I  will  write, 
therefore,  as  far  as  paper  permits,  and  ease  my  mind  in 
some  small  degree,  by  unveiling  some  of  its  weaknesses,  its 
follies,  and  its  vices,  to  you :  — 

"  There  are  three  sjn'ings  of  everlasting  uneasiness  per- 
petually flowing  in  my  bosom,  —  the  cares  of  life,  ambition 
of  fame,  and,  the  worst,  the  most  deplorable  of  all,  re- 
ligious horrors.  With  regard  to  the  first,  —  in  my  business, 
chained  as  I  am,  like  Prometheus  to  the  rock,  the  vulture 
of  care  feeds  on  my  bowels.  Since  I  wrote  in  September, 
I  have  suffered  in  my  mind  what  I  would  not  again  undergo 
Tor  any  temptation  which  lucre  could  offer.  You  may 
guess  what  were  my  sensations,  when  I  tell  you,  that  from 
the  middle  of  November  to  the  latter  end  of  January,  for  a 
trifle  which  men  of  firmer  minds  would  have  laughed  at,  I 
tortured  myself  with  the  agonizing  apprehensions  of  again 
being  dragged  to  Doncaster  Sessions.  I  cannot  give  you 
further  explanation  here ;  the  danger  is  now  past,  and  the 
spirit  of  alarm  which  harassed  my  dreams  by  night,  and 
my  reveries  by  day,  is  laid  to  rest.  I  tremble  to  tread 
upon  its  grave,  lest  the  pressure  of  my  foot  should  awaken 
it  again. 

"  On  the  second  point,  —  my  mad  ambition,  —  ever  since 


94  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

last  August,  my  brain  has  been  in  the  state  of  Vesuvius 
during  the  crisis  of  eruption.  I  have  been  laboring  con- 
tinually upon  a  spot  of  Parnassus,  which  promises  to  be  as 
unfruitful,  as  ungrateful  to  me,  as  the  most  barren  field  I 
ever  cultivated  there  before.  As  my  plan  is  still  imperfect, 
and  the  issue  in  suspense,  I  shall  wait  a  little  longer  before 
I  reveal  it  to  you.  If  I  be  successful,  I  am  sure  of  your 
congratulations;  if  I  be  unfortunate,  you  shall  judge  whether 
I  deserved  to  be  so. 

"On  the  last  head,  —  my  religious  horrors,  —  I  will  be 
candid,  as  I  have  always  endeavored  to  be  to  you.  [Here 
followed  five  lines,  which  are  blotted  out  in  the  original 
letter,  —  they  probably  refer  to  the  happy  experience  of 
his  early  piety  at  school.]  Such  has  been  my  education,  — 
such,  I  will  venture  to  say,  has  been  my  experience  in  the 
morning  of  life,  —  that  I  can  never,  never  entirely  reject  it, 
and  embrace  any  system  of  morality  not  grounded  upon 
that  revelation.  What  can  I  do  ?  I  am  tossed  to  and  fro 
on  a  sea  of  doubts  and  perplexities ;  the  further  I  am 
carried  from  that  shore  where  once  I  was  happily  moored, 
the  weaker  grow  my  hopes  of  ever  reaching  another  where 
I  may  anchor  in  safety;  at  the  same  time,  my  hopes  of 
returning  to  the  harbor  I  have  left  are  diminished  in  pro- 
portion. This  is  the  present  state  of  my  mind !  I  do  not 
know  whether  you  will  be  able,  from  this  hasty,  imperfect 
sketch,  to  understand  your  friend  any  better :  I  cannot 
expect  that  it  will  increase  your  esteem ;  but  I  trust, 
though  it  may  make  you  think  less  highly,  it  won't  induce 
you  to  think  less  kindly,  of  your  sincere  and  affectionate 
friend." 

"  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say,"  on  resuming  his  pen,  "  that  a 
most  solemn  conviction  is  impressed  upon  my  heart,  that 
Christianity,  —  pure,  and  humble,  and  holy,  as  we  find  it 


RELIGIOUS    IMPRESSIONS.  95 

in  the  discourses  of  Jesus  and  His  apostles,  —  is  equally 
worthy  of  its  Divine  Author,  and  beneficial  to  mankind. 
I  believe  no  human  being,  of  any  other  profession,  can  ever 
be  half  so  happy  as  a  true  believer  in  it,  —  and  why? 
Because  his  faith  is  certain;  no  doubt  of  the  truth  of  his 
religion  can  possibly  remain  on  his  mind ;  whereas  the 
most  enlightened  deistical  philosopher  is  at  best  but  [half  a 
line  crossed  out]  a  half  convert  to  the  opinion  he  professes. 
He  believes,  —  not  that  there  is  a  God,  —  that  the  soul  of 
man  is  immortal, — but  that  there  may  be  a  God,  —  that  the 
soul  of  man  may  be  immortal :  he  hopes  for,  not  expects,  a 
day  of  retribution :  consequently  the  spur  to  his  virtues  is 
blunt,  and  the  bridle  to  his  vices  weaker,  than  if  he  were 
assured  of  the  future  reward  of  the  one,  and  punishment  of 
the  other.    But  my  paper  is  full." 


CHAPTER    VII. 

SELF  UPBRAIDINGS  —  CONFLICTS  AND  WAVERINGS  —  LETTERS  TO  IIIS 
BROTHER  —  SPIRITUAL  DARKNESS  —  RIGHT  VIEWS  OF  SAVING  FAITH 
SPIRITUAL  LIGHT — VIEWS  ON  HYMN  WRITING  — NOTE  TO  A  QUAKER 
FRIEND. 

The  preceding  letter  brings  us  to  that  period  of  Mont- 
gomery's personal  history  when  eternal  things  re-asserted 
their  claims  upon  his  attention.  His  checkered  fortunes 
have  hitherto  been  the  battling  of  circumstances,  the  great 
bread-and-butter  struggle  often  necessary  at  the  outset 
of  life  to  develope  what  a  man  is,  and  to  determine  his 
course  in  the  world. 

"Without  the  antecedents  of  friends,  fortune,  or  patron- 
age, to  help  him  in  the  fight,  he  has  bravely  sustained 
himself,  and  secured  a  position  of  trust  and  comfort,  looking 
out  upon  a  future  of  honorable  competency  and  dawning 
fame. 

Fresh  sources  of  unrest  now  unseal  themselves  within. 
He  feels  that  he  has  drifted  from  the  old  landmarks  of  his 
religious  faith,  and  is  breasting  an  ocean  of  perilous  uncer- 
tainty. A  deep  sense  of  spiritual  orphanage  takes  possession 
of  his  soul ;  he  is  far  from  his  Father's  house,  and  the 
Living  Way  is  obscured  with  doubts. 

"  Oh  where  shall  rest  be  found, 
Rest  for  the  weary  soul  ? 
'Twere  vain  the  ocean  depths  to  sound, 
Or  pierce  to  either  pole  ! 


CONFLICTS    AND   WAVERINGS.  97 

The  world  can  never  give 

The  bliss  for  which  we  sigh ; 
'T  is  not  the  whole  of  life  to  live, 

Nor  all  of  death  to  die," — 

such  is  the  mournful  utterance  of  his  spirit. 

His  early  religious  education  he  cannot  ignore.  Divorced 
from  God,  what  can  a  reasonable  man  hope  for  ?  Wedded 
to  the  world,  who  has  ever  found  it  could  satisfy  the 
cravings  of  immortal  want  ?  More  than  this,  it  reminded 
him  of  the  trust  he  once  had  in  the  Saviour  of  lost  men ; 
the  peace  which  filled  his  bosom  when  redeeming  love 
smiled  upon  his  penitent  confessions,  healed  the  breaches 
of  sin,  and  made  him  strong  and  joyful  in  the  blessed  fellow- 
si  lip  of  holy  things. 

Early  piety  and  privileges  seem  more  real  and  precious 
as  he  grows  older,  and  with  a  profound  sense  of  their  loss 
come  fearful  forebodings  of  that 

"  death,  whose  pang 


Outlasts  the  fleeting  breath." 

Though  Montgomery  had  never  \*£z  the  paths  of  respect- 
able morality,  he  seems  to  have  abandoned  all  that  distinct- 
ively belong*  Xo  a  religious  life.  Defection  of  the  heart 
from  God  is  now  bearing  its  bitter  fruit.  An  enlightened 
conscience  and  an  unfilial  spirit  are  in  conflict.  The  doc- 
trines of  the  Cross  he  cannot  reject,  while  the  rebel  will 
quarrels  with  their  strictness.  The  requirements  of  the 
gospel  seem  harsh  and  severe  without  that  love  which 
transmutes  what  seem  to  be  tasks  into  loyal  tributes  and 
holy  service  to  the  Lord  of  Life  and  Glory.  Its  renun- 
ciations of  the  world  wear  an  icy  look,  and  he  shrinks  from 
their  barren  grandeur,  for  he  does  not  experience  the  rich 
compensations   in   store   for  faithful  believers.     The   anti- 


98  LIFE   OF    MONTGOMERY. 

thetic  mystery  of  the  Scriptures  is  not  yet  revealed  to  him ; 

—  "dying,  yet  behold  we  live"  —  "sorrowful,  yet  always 
rejoicing" —  "having  nothing  and  yet  possessing  all  things" 

—  than  which,  nothing  so  unfolds  the  riches  of  redeeming 
love. 

Long  an  outcast  from  his  Father's  house,  like  the  return- 
ing prodigal,  he  began  "  to  be  in  want." 

The  circle  into  which  he  was  first  thrown  at  Sheffield 
was  of  the  Unitarian  persuasion.  No  Moravian  pilgrims 
had  pitched  their  tent  there.  Every  year  he  visited  Ful- 
neck,  —  the  Eden  of  the  world  to  him,  —  and  renewed  the 
endearing  intimacies  of  his  boyhood.  The  Brethren  re- 
ceived him  with  fatherly  cordiality,  and,  we  doubt  not, 
strove  to  renew  the  defaced  piety  of  their  wandering 
child. 

In  the  light  of  an  increasing  seriousness  of  mind,  the 
witty  use  of  Scripture  phrases  he  abandoned  as  irreverent 
and  trifling;  a  graver  tone  appeared  in  his  articles;  club 
meetings  at  the  "  Wicker,"  where  pipes  and  politics,  litera- 
ture, fine  arts,  aad  the  social  glass,  diversified  the  evening, 
he  felt  less  relish  for ;  p,nd  finally,  preparing  one  night  to 
go  out  and  meet  his  friends,  ho  took  down  his  overcoat, 
but  instead  of  putting  it  on,  he  reflected-  hesitated,  and 
returning  it  to  its  accustomed  peg,  seated  himself  at  his 
own  fireside,  and  never  resumed  his  place  among  the  jovial 
sociabilities  of  the  club  or  tavern. 

More  frequently  he  dropped  into  the  Methodist  chapels, 
occupied  at  the  time  by  men  of  fervent  piety ;  and  often  he 
stole  to  a  little  class-meeting,  in  the  lowly  cottage  of  a 
Methodist  brother,  where,  in  the  happy  experience  and 
hearty  devotion  of  these  humble  believers,  he  beheld  that 
living  faith  which  his  soul  yearned  for. 

From  a  letter  to  his  brother  Ignatius,  ordained  a  clergy- 


LETTER   TO    HIS    13I10TIIEK.  99 

man,  and  now  teacher  at  Fulneck,  we  make  the  following 
extract :  — 

"  You  see,  dear  brother,  how  apt  I  am  to  look  far  before 
me,  much  farther,  indeed,  than  I  can  see;  and  my  heart 
aches  so  often,  that  it  hardly  kngws  any  other  sensations 
than  those  of  remorse,  apprehension,  and  despondency.  I 
have  almost  outlived  my  hopes,  in  this  world,  —  I  mean  my 
worldly  hopes.  How  comes  it,  brother,  that  we  seldom, 
perhaps  never,  seriously  turn  our  thoughts  to  eternity  till 
Ave  have  been  disgusted  with  the  vanity,  and  sickened  with 
the  disappointments  of  time?  Why  cannot  we  embrace 
both  this  world  and  the  next  at  once  ?  Is  the  enjoyment 
of  the  one  incompatible  with  the  other?  Am  I  to  lead  a 
life  of  self-denial  and  suffering,  as  cruel  —  and,  I  verily 
believe,  as  unprofitable  —  as  the  mortifications  of  a  hermit, 
for  the  sake,  or,  rather^  as  an  indispensable  condition  of 
salvation  ?  You  cannot  mistake  me  here,  and  imagine  that 
I  mean  by  the  enjoyment  of  the  world  an  indulgence  in 
criminal  excesses.  I  mean  only  those  pleasures  which  men 
of  strictly  moral  and  conscientious  minds  think  innocent, 
but  against  which  the  Dissenters  and  Methodists  inveigh 
with  a  bitterness  and  bigotry  that  makes  me  sometimes 
imagine  that  religion  is,  indeed,  a  cross  on  which  its  pro- 
fessors are  condemned  to  linger  out  their  lives  in  agonies ; 
but  I  must  not  expatiate  on  this  subject,  lest  I  should  be 
betrayed  into  impiety  of  speech  on  what  almost  turns  my 
brain  to  contemplate.  Yet  all  this  I  think  I  could  be 
content  to  suffer  for  the  assurance  of  that  peace  with  God 
which  they  profess  to  feel,  and  to  which  I  am  almost  an 
utter  stranger.  I  have  no  confidence  towards  him,  except 
what  all  the  world  must  have,  —  a  confidence  that  he  is 
good,  and  that  what  lie  does  is  right,  whether  I  compre- 
hend it  or  not ;  and  that  if  he  shuts  me  up  in  everlasting 


100  LIFE   OF    MONTGOMERY. 

and  unspeakable  misery,  he  will  convince  me  first  that  I 
have  deserved  it ;  and  that,  even  consistently  with  his 
infinite  mercy  and  infinite  power,  he  could  not  mitigate  my 
punishment.  But  why  am  I  tormenting  you  with  my 
sorrows  ?  I  know  what  you  would  answer  to  all  this.  I 
know  what  way  you  would  point  out  to  me  to  escape 
present  and  future  sufferings !  I  dare  not  tell  you  that  I 
cannot  lay  hold  of  that  salvation  which  you  preach,  lest 
I  should  be  guilty  of  lying  against  the  Spirit  of  God ;  but 
indeed,  brother,  I  sometimes  fear  I  never  shall  lay  hold 
of  it.     Farewell." 

Dark  and  bitter  is  this  letter,  —  upbraiding  and  forebod- 
ing,—  the  two  elements  of  a  soul  convinced  of  its  own 
short-coming,  and  vainly  imagining  a  life  of  self-imposed 
penance  can  purchase  that  peace  and  joy  which  faith  in 
Christ  the  Redeemer  can  alone  give.  An  experience  like 
this  is  nothing  new  or  uncommon  in  religious  history ;  and 
some  are  ready  to  tell  us  it  is  the  natural  consequence  of 
too  great  severity  of  doctrine,  the  morbid  helplessness  of 
religious  fear.  Morbid  it  certainly  is,  and  we  can  trace  in 
the  author  streaks  of  physical  disease,  like  that  which  some- 
times dimmed  the  spiritual  vision  of  Cowper. 

To  another  friend  he  writes  :  "  Since  I  saw  you  in  Shef- 
field, I  have  experienced  some  severe  conflicts  of  mind.  I 
believe  my  last  letter  was  gloomy.  It  set  in  clouds  and 
darkness ;  a  long  night  of  silence  ensued,  and  the  morning 
of  the  present  effusion  is  not  likely  to  be  more  cheerful. 

"  The  affectionate  and  consoling  letter  which  you  wrote 
in  reply  lies  befere  me.  I  have  been  reading  it  again  as  I 
have  done  many  times  before,  with  renewed  and  unsatis- 
fied interest.  You  say,  a  person  cannot  help  believing 
what  he  does  believe,  so  that  if  we  do  our  duty,  by  en- 
quiring what  is  truth,  in  a  conscientious  manner,  it  can  be 


SPIRITUAL   DARKNESS.  101 

of  little  consequence  whether  we  believe  accurately  or  not 
in  all  the  minutiae  of  religion.  My  dear  friend,  there  is 
danger  of  misapprehending  this  doctrine.  We  may  think 
we  are  seeking  truth  when  we  are  wilfully  and  persever- 
ingly  embracing  error.  The  Christian  religion  seems  to 
me  to  require  such  a  child-like  simplicity,  such  purity  of 
heart,  and  singleness  of  mind,  that  when  I  contemplate  it 
calmly,  I  despair  of  ever  approaching  its  standard.  It  is 
hard  to  renounce  the  world,  and  all  those  pleasures  which 
the  world  deems  not  only  innocent,  but  useful  and  com- 
mendable; and  yet,  methinks  that  Christianity  requires 
the  sacrifice  of  them.  For  my  own  part,  I  cannot,  at  pres- 
ent, take  up  my  cross  and  follow  the  despised  and  rejected 
Man  of  Sorrows  through  poverty,  reproach,  and  tribula- 
tion :  and  yet  —  you  will  say  it  is  a  strange  confession  —  I 
carry  a  heavier  cross  and  bear  a  deeper  ignominy  in  my 
own  upbraiding  conscience:  I  feel  the  Christian's  suffer- 
ings without  the  Christian's  hope  of  that  eternal  weight 
of  glory  which  shall  reward  them.  My  mind  is  not  deeply 
laden  with  crimes ;  but  unbelief — an  unbelief  from  which 
I  cannot  deliver  myself — hangs  heavy  on  my  heart,  and 
outweighs  all  those  little  joys,  for  which  I  am  unwilling  to 
relinquish  the  world.  I  am  sometimes  sunk  in  such  deplor- 
able despondency,  that  I  feel  all  the  pangs  of  a  victim, 
under  sentence  of  eternal  damnation,  without  that  salutary 
conviction  of  the  reality  of  my  danger,  which  might  com- 
pel me  to  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come.  But  I  am  not  al- 
ways thus ;  sometimes  a  cheering  ray  of  hope — of  Christian 
hope — breaks  through  the  pagan  darkness  of  my  mind,  and 
opens  heaven  to  my  desiring  view.  O,  then,  my  friend,  how 
does  my  heart  expand,  my  soul  aspire  !  .  .  .  Do  not  be 
frightened  at  this  picture  of  your  friend :  it  is  faithful,  but 

is  drawn  in  an  hour  of  bitterness ;  and  if  I  had  delayed  until 
9* 


102  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

to-morrow,  I  might  have  sketched  a  picture  more  pleasing, 
yet  not  more  faithful.  I  have  some  good  qualities  —  a  warm 
heart,  a  weak  head,  a  most  despotic  imagination.  .  .  . 
Some  cruel  disappointments  in  life,  which  have  preyed,  and 
will  continue  to  prey  upon  my  heart,  have  aggravated  my 
natural  melancholy.  The  education  I  received,  indepen- 
dently of  all  these,  has  forever  incapacitated  me  from  being 
contented  and  happy  under  any  other  form  of  religion  than 
that  which  I  imbibed  with  my  mother's  milk :  at  the  same 
time,  my  restless  and  imaginative  mind  and  my  wild  and 
ungovernable  imagination  have  long  ago  broken  loose  from 
the  anchor  of  faith,  and  have  been  driven,  the  sport  of 
winds  and  waves,  over  an  ocean  of  doubts,  round  which 
every  coast  is  defended  by  the  rocks  of  despair  that  forbid 
me  to  enter  the  harbor  in  view." 

A  natural  melancholy  is  more  fully  disclosed  in  this  letter 
and  helps  in  part  to  account  for  his  sufferings,  whose  main 
cause  indeed,  lies  far  deeper  than  this,  —  a  misapprehension 
of  the  truths  which  he  professes  to  believe.  The  terms  of 
salvation  neither  ask  nor  require  this  agony  of  spirit,  this 
long  period  of  probationary  suffering  as  a  condition  of  ac- 
ceptance. 

It  is  nowhere  stated  in  the  Scriptures;  it  formed  no 
part  of  Christian  experience  in  apostolic  times,  nor  was 
it  ever  preached  by  Gospel  ministers  at  any  time.  "  Re- 
pent and  believe,"  is  the  simple  and  single  condition  to 
pardon  and  peace ;  and  whoever  makes  it  narrower  or 
broader  shuts  the  door  of  hope  and  heaven  to  the  strug- 
gling soul.  This  duty  is  enjoined  immediately ;  "now"  is 
called  the  accepted  time ;  Christ  himself  guarantees  suc- 
cess. "  Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  are  weary  and  heavy 
laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest."  "  Come ! "  is  it  not  a 
word  of  welcome  ? 


RIGHT   VIEW   OF  SAVING  FAITH.  103 

"  I  will  give  you  rest."  Is  it  not  a  simple,  unclogged 
promise,  which  He  who  is  Lord  of  all,  can  most  royally 
fulfill? 

The  fullness  and  preciseness  of  the  Scripture  doctrine  of 
"  turning  to  God"  —  "  coming  to  Christ"  —  "  accepting  the 
offers  of  salvation,"  are  remarkable,  and  are  apt  to  be  over- 
looked in  the  many  accessories  given  to  it  by  the  manifold 
experiences  of  men.  These,  in  time,  are  liable  to  be  taken 
for  essential  parts,  and  the  mistake  cumbers  the  way  of 
many  a  soul  in  search  of  mercy. 

Many  a  sincere  seeker  fails  to  struggle  into  light  and 
comfort,  through  self-imposed  tasks  upon  his  own  spirit, 
directing  his  eye  to  false  issues,  or  giving  himself  to  an 
unwholesome  brooding  over  a  single  truth,  which  may 
paralyze,  if  naked,  but  sheathed  and  blended  with  other 
truths,  will  stir  the  soul  to  lay  hold  mightily  on  "  Him  who 
is  mighty  to  save." 

Child-like  faith,  a  simple  taking  God  at  his  word,  strongly 
characterizes  the  piety  of  both  the  Methodists  and  Mora- 
vians. This  spirit  does  not  linger  shiveringly  around  the 
frowning  abutments  of  some  single  truth,  afraid  lest  they 
fall  and  crush  him,  but  it  glides  through  the  open  door  of 
promise  into  the  Inner  Court,  where  wrought  into  har- 
mony, all  the  doctrines  of  the  Cross  glow  with  the  clear 
shining  of  divine  love.  Here  doubts  vanish,  the  burden  of 
sin  rolls  off,  fears  are  left  behind,  and  to  the  tearful  suppli- 
cation, "Lord,  I  believe — help  thou  mine  unbelief!"  light, 
comfort,  hope,  break  upon  the  soul,  and  it  learns  the  mean- 
ing of  that  rebuking  and  searching  scripture,  "  Whosoever 
shall  not  receive  the  kingdom  of  God  as  a  little  child,  shall 
not  enter  therein." 

"O  how  shall  I  rejoice"  writes  a  Moravian  clergyman  to 
him,  "to  hear  that  the  horizon  of  your  soul  is  serene  and 


104  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

unclouded ;  that  doubts  and  scruples  have  ceased  to  agitate 
your  seeking  mind ;  and  that  you  have  fully  found  again 
that  unseen  but  ever-present  Friend,  whose  hand  has  been 
on  you  for  good  thus  far ;  who  was  the  comfort  of  your 
earliest  day  ;  the  dawning  of  whose  love  you  once  felt,  — 
which  love  alone  can  smooth  the  path  of  life,  cheer  our 
gloomy  hours,  and  make  the  approach  of  death  not  to  be 
dreaded  !  Pardon  the  liberty  I  take  ;  my  anxious  concern 
for  your  happiness  must  plead  my  excuse,  and  my  own  ex- 
perience makes  me  thus  speak.  .  .  .  Convinced  I  was 
a  sinner,  and  stood  in  need  of  a  Saviour,  I  flew  to  Jesus,  — 
simply  and  child-like  :  need  I  tell  you  the  consequence?  O 
my  friend !  do  likewise ;  be  a  child  again,  in  seeking  safety 
in  the  arms  of  your  Saviour,  and  there  you  will  find  rest 
for  your  weary  soul." 

Is  there  not  here  a  glimmer  of  hope  ? 

"  I  stir  the  ashes  of  my  mind, 
And  here  and  there  a  spark  I  find 
That  leaps  into  a  moment's  light, 
Then  dwindles  down  again  in  night, — 
Yet  burns  a  fire  within  my  breast, 
Which  cannot  quench,  and  will  not  rest; 
Oh,  for  a  secret,  sudden  rent 
In  this  hard  heart  to  give  it  vent ! 
Oh,  for  a  gale  of  heavenly  breath 
To  quicken  life  again  from  death !  " 

This  halting  and  dreariness  of  spirit,  Montgomery  carried 
about  with  him  a  long  time.  Light  sometimes  shot  through 
the  cloud,  when  it  again  thickened,  to  pass,  however,  finally 
away,  and  leave  him  in  the  blessed  sunshine  of  Christian 
hope. 

To  a  friend  he  writes,  "  I  have  not  room  for  another  word 
of  business ;  but  I  turn  with  gratitude  to  the  most  deeply 


SPIRITUAL   LIGHT.  105 

interesting  parts  of  your  letter,  on  which,  however,  I  must 
say  much  less  than  I  think  and  feel.  I  was  in  very  deep 
despondency  when  your  sudden  letter  came,  —  sudden  I 
call  it,  for  it  darted  like  an  arrow  from  your  heart  into  mine. 
It  roused,  it  warmed,  it  melted  me.  It  arrived,  and  I  read 
it  just  as  I  was  going  to  chapel  on  Sunday  morning,  and  it 
well  prepared  my  mind  for  receiving  a  consoling  sermon. 
In  the  afternoon  I  was  obliged  to  stay  at  home.  I  took  up 
a  volume  of  Cennick's  most  simple,  but  truly  evangelical, 
sermons,  and  opened  to  a  discourse  on  the  very  text  which 
you  had  sent  as  the  label  of  your  arrow,  and  which  had  sunk 
into  my  soul,  —  viz.,  1  Tim.  i.  15.  I  read  it  over  most 
eagerly  and  earnestly,  and  I  was  much  refreshed  and  com- 
forted by  it.  I  mention  this  happy  coincidence,  because  I 
am  sure  it  will  delight  you,  that  you  were  made  on  this  oc- 
casion the  messenger  of  good  tidings  to  me.  I  am  sure 
that  I  am  not  superstitious,  but  as  I  am  deeply  conscious  of 
the  omniscience  and  omnipresence  of  God,  I  can  never  be- 
lieve that  he  is  an  idle  spectator  of  the  thoughts,  words, 
actions,  and  accidents  of  his  creatures.  In  what  manner  he 
interferes  with  any  or  with  all  of  these  is  beyond  my  com- 
prehension, but  that  he  does  sometimes  rule  them  I  am 
compelled  to  believe ;  and  as  we  are  taught  that  every  good 
and  perfect  gift  comes  from  Him,  the  means  through  which 
it  comes  must  be  appointed  or  influenced  by  him.  I  did 
then,  and  I  do  now,  attribute  it  to  his  grace,  that  these  ap- 
parent accidents  concurred  to  relieve  me,  and  encourage 
me  to  hope  in  his  mercy  for  final  deliverance  from  one  of 
the  sins  that  most  easily  besets  me  —  despair ;  for  it  is  a  sin 
to  despair  when  God  proclaims  himself  to  be  Love,  —  des- 
pair gives  him  the  lie.  You  will,  notwithstanding  this  frank 
avowal  of  what  many  would  call  fanaticism,  understand 
that  I  am  no  Calvinist :  God  make  me  a  Christian  !  and  let 


106  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

those  that  would  be  more  pride  themselves  in  being  the  fol- 
lowers of  men  !  Among  all  sects  who  preach  Christ  cruci- 
fied the  disciples  of  Jesus  are  to  be  found ;  they  are  confined 
to  none  ;  they  are  excluded  from  none  ;  at  least  I  think  so. 

"  Indeed,  my  dear  friend,  I  have  no  Methodist  hymns  to 
send  you.  When  I  was  at  school  I  wrote  many,  but  I  have 
seldom  dared  to  touch  holy  things  since  then.  My  lips  and 
my  heart  want  purifying  with  a  coal  from  the  altar." 

In  reply  to  a  gentleman  bespeaking  an  effort  of  his  pen 
in  this  direction,  he  thus  feelingly  alludes  to  his  unfitness 
for  the  work : 

"  When  I  was  a  boy,  I  wrote  a  great  many  hymns ; 
indeed,  the  first-fruits  of  my  mind  were  all  consecrated  to 
Him  who  never  despises  the  day  of  small  things,  even  in 
the  poorest  of  his  creatures ;  but  as  I  grew  up,  and  my 
heart  degenerated,  I  directed  my  talents,  such  as  they 
were,  to  other  services,  and  seldom,  indeed,  since  my  four- 
teenth year  have  they  been  employed  in  the  delightful 
duties  of  the  sanctuary.  Many  conspiring  and  adverse  cir- 
cumstances that  have  confounded,  afflicted,  and  discouraged 
my  mind  have  also  compelled  me  to  forbear  from  coinj)osing 
hymns  of  prayer  and  praise  for  many  past  years,  because  I 
found  that  I  could  not  enter  into  the  spirit  of  such  divine 
themes,  with  that  humble  boldness,  that  earnest  expecta- 
tion, and  ardent  feeling  of  love  to  God  and  truth  which 
were  wont  to  inspire  me,  when  I  was  an  uncorrupted  boy, 
full  of  tenderness,  zeal,  and  simplicity.  I  have  therefore,  as 
you  will  perceive  in  reading  my  little  volume,  only  occa- 
sionally touched  a  chord  of  the  harp  of  saints  and  angels, 
and,  though  I  have  started  and  trembled  at  the  sound 
which  my  own  fingers  had  awakened,  yet  I  am  not  ashamed 
to  acknowledge  that  those  divine  '  incidentals '  have 
always  made  my  pulse  quicken  and  my  heart  burn  within 


VIEWS   ON   HYMN-WRITING.  107 

me  when  they  occurred.  Nay,  I  know  that  in  several  of 
the  smaller  poems  those  sparks  of  fire  from  the  altar  have 
kindled  the  whole  song  into  a  bright  and  more  beautiful 
flame,  which  many  of  the  readers  (as  well  as  the  writer) 
have  perceived  and  confessed.  Yet  I  have  not  dared  to 
assume  a  sacred  subject  as  the  theme  of  any  whole  piece 
that  I  have  written,  on  account  of  the  gloom  and  despond- 
ency that  frequently  hung  over  my  prospects  and  sometimes 
almost  sunk  my  hopes  into  despair.  At  present,  I  am  so 
deeply  engaged  with  two  small  pieces  on  occasions  suffici- 
ently serious  to  occupy  all  the  overflowing  spirits  that  I  can 
spare  from  the  cares  and  vexations  of  a  business  that  allows 
me  very  little  leisure  of  time,  and  hardly  any  of  mind,  that, 
though  I  feel  sincerely  disposed  to  gratify  myself  by  fulfill- 
ing, at  least  in  a  small  degree,  your  flattering  request,  I 
cannot  pledge  myself  to  make  an  early  attempt.  I  compose 
very  slowly,  and  only  by  fits,  when  I  can  rouse  my  indolent 
powers  into  exertion ;  so  that,  unless  some  very  auspicious 
opportunity  occurs,  I  can  promise  you  nothing  in  less  than 
two  months.  However,  I  will  lie  in  wait  for  my  heart,  and 
when  I  can  string  it  to  the  pitch  of  David's  lyre,  I  will  set 
a  psalm  to  the  chief  musician." 

Extracts  from  a  letter  to  his  brother  Ignatius,  bearing 
the  date  of  June,  1807,  further  disclose  his  inner  history. 

"  Sheffield,  June  20,  1807. 
"  My  Dear  Brother, 

"When  St.  John  was  in  the  spirit  on  the  Lord's 
day,  lie  saw  visions  of  future  glory :  I  am  in  the  spirit  also 
on  the  Lord's  day,  and  I  behold  scenes  of  past  happiness, 
returning  like  lovely  dreams  upon  me.  I  am  transported 
to  my  native  country  ;  I  am  turned  back  to  infancy,  and  in 
the  morning  of  life  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  is  rising  upon 


108  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

me  with  healing  in  his  wings  ;  alas  !  how  long  is  it  since  I 
saw  that  sun  except  in  memory's  melancholy  eye  ! 

"  You  are  now  in  the  land  of  my  birth,  and  near  the 
spot  where  I  first  saw  the  light :  of  how  little  importance 
is  it  to  all  the  world  besides,  that  I  was  ever  born  at  all ! 
Yet  to  me,  how  awful  is  the  existence  into  which  I  was 
called  without  my  own  consent,  and  from  which  I  cannot 
retire,  though  I  were  to  give  myself  up  to  suffering  for  mil- 
lions of  ages  to  purchase  the  privilege  of  annihilation ! 
Here,  then,  I  am ;  and  what  I  am  finally  here,  I  must  for 
ever  be.  Is  it,  indeed,  in  my  own  power  to  choose  between 
eternal  bliss  and  everlasting  burnings?  If  it  be,  it  is  truly 
time  for  me  to  awake  and  look  around  me,  with  an  earn- 
estness that  will  make  every  other  concern  of  life  indiffer- 
ent to  me,  to  see  how  I  shall  escape  the  latter  and  secure 
the  former ;  —  for  to  the  one  or  to  the  other  I  am  inevitably 
predestined.  I  have  the  choice  of  these  two ;  but  I  have  no 
other  choice. 

"  Brother !  how  is  it  possible  that  I  should  hesitate  an 
instant  ?  Why  have  I  not,  since  I  began  to  write  this 
letter,  already  by  an  act  of  that  faith  which  is  the  power 
of  God  communicated  to  his  creatures,  and  to  which  all 
things  are  possible,  —  why  have  I  not  already  decided  my 
condition  for  eternity  ?  Is  there  anything  more  mysterious 
in  the  whole  mystery  of  iniquity,  than  that  a  man  shall  be 
deeply,  dreadfully,  convinced  of  sin,  and  believe,  almost 
without  daring  to  make  a  reserve,  in  all  the  threatenings 
and  judgments  of  God, — yet  have  no  confidence  in  his 
promises  and  declarations  of  mercy  ?  And  this  is  my  case, 
as  nearly  as  I  can  express  it.  Yet  I  do  not,  and  I  dare  not 
utterly  despair  when  I  look  at  God ;  but  I  do  and  must 
despair  when  I  look  at  myself;  and  my  everlasting  state 
depends  upon  the  issue  of  the  controversy  between  him  and 


LETTER  TO  HIS  BROTHER.         109 

me  :  if  he  conquers,  I  shall  be  saved  —  if  I  prevail  against 
him,  I  perish. 

"  I  owe  you  my  warmest  thanks  for  two  very  affectionate 
letters,  the  one  from  Grace  Hill,  and  the  other  from  Ayr. 
I  am  exceedingly  glad  that  you  have  had  the  opportunity 
of  changing  for  a  time  both  your  place  of  abode  and  your 
daily  occupations.  I  know  —  though  you  never  gave  me  so 
much  of  your  confidence  as  to  tell  me  so  —  that  you  have 
more  employment  at  Grace  Hill  than  your  powers  can 
support,  without  frequent  and  injurious  exhaustion  both  of 
mind  and  body :  it  is  true  that  you  are  in  the  service  of  the 
congregation,  and  He  who  is  the  Elder  of  it  has  a  right  to 
all  the  services  that  you  can  render  him,  and  it  is  your  duty 
• — your  privilege,  I  mean  —  to  spend  and  to  be  spent  for 
him.  Yet  I  think  your  brethren  ought  to  lay  no  heavier 
burthen  upon  you,  than  your  strength,  well  put  forth,  can 
bear  without  sinking  under  the  weight ;  for  I  am  sure  you 
will  serve  them  and  their  master  much  better  by  serving 
them  to  the  eleventh  hour,  than  by  laboring  yourself  to 
death  before  the  end  of  the  fifth  ;  for  though  you  may,  by 
a  mortal  exertion,  do  more  work  in  a  given  time,  you  will 
do  less  on  the  whole ;  and  the  Lord's  vineyard  is  so  great, 
and  his  husbandmen  so  few  and  so  feeble,  that  their  lives 
ought  to  be  precious  in  their  own  sight,  in  proportion  to  the 
magnitude  and  fertility  of  the  field  before  them. 

"  Henry  Steinhaur  arrived  last  night  in  Sheffield  with  a 
convoy  of  sixteen  children  from  the  neighborhood,  who  are 
all  Fulneck  scholars.  Some  good  has  come  of  my  residing 
in  Sheffield.  Who  knows  what  eternal  consequences  may 
result  from  so  many  boys  and  girls  hearing  the  simple  gos- 
pel of  Christ  crucified  preached  faithfully  to  them  among 
the  Brethren !  It  warms  my  cold,  and  melts  my  hard  heart 
sometimes  when  I  think  that  I  may  thus  accidentally  have 
10 


110  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

been  the  cause  of  promoting  the  everlasting  welfare  of  some 

of  my  fellow  creatures  in  this  neighborhood,  where  I  came 

an  outcast,  and  in  which  I  have  lived  a  stranger.     The  new 

newspaper  which  I  so  much  dreaded  has  hurt  me  very  little 

as  yet ;  and  I  am  certainly  much  less  frightened  at  it  since 

it  appeared  than  I  was  before  it  came  out,  when  I  expected 

Goliath,  but  have  hitherto  only  seen  his  armour-bearer. 

"  Yours,  &g., 

"J.  Montgomery. 
"  Rev.  Ignatius  Montgomery,  Ayr,  Scotland." 

The  eternal  issues  which  hang  upon  the  present,  feelingly 
touched  upon  in  this  letter,  infinitely  enhances  its  "  Value 
of  a  Moment,"  written  perhaps  at  this  time. 

'Twixt  that,  long  fled,  which  gave  us  light, 
And  that  which  soon  shall  end  in  night, 
There  is  a  point  no  eye  can  see, 
Yet  on  it  hangs  eternity. 

This  is  that  moment  —  who  can  tell, 
Whether  it  leads  to  heaven  or  hell  ? 
This  is  that  moment  —  as  we  choose, 
Th'  immortal  soul  we  save  or  lose. 

Time  past  and  time  to  come  are  not, 
Time  present  is  our  only  lot ; 
Oh,  God,  henceforth  our  hearts  incline 
To  seek  no  other  love  than  thine ! 

In  a  little  note,  a  few  months  later,  to  one  of  his  Quaker 
friends,  once  a  fellow  captive  at  York,  we  begin  to  trace  a 
growing  consciousness  of  the  endearing  relation  between 
Christ  and  his  followers  in  works  of  love  —  the  first  fruits 
of  a  life,  in  due  time,  refined  and  beautified  by  the  spirit  of 
his  Heavenly  Master. 


NOTE   TO    A    QUAKER    FRIEND.  Ill 

"  I  am  sorry  to  learn  that  you  have  suffered  so  much  by 
lameness ;  but  you  trust  in  God, —  continue  to  trust  in  him, 
for  he  will  never  leave  or  forsake  you. 

"As  a  token  of  his  remembrance,  I  have  enclosed  a  five 
pound  Bank  of  England  note,  which  I  hope  will  be  service- 
able to  you  in  your  present  low  estate.  Accept  it,  Henry, 
not  from  me  but  from  Him,  who  though  he  was  rich,  yet  for 
our  sakes  he  became  poor,  and  by  suffering  all  the  ills  of 
poverty,  sanctified  them  to  his  people.  For  His  sake  and  in 
His  name  receive  it ;  for  His  sake  and  in  His  name  I  send  it. 
I  assure  you,  my  dear  friend,  that  I  feel  far  more  pleasure  in 
being,  on  this  occasion,  the  minister  of  His  bounty  to  you, 
than  I  could  possibly  derive  from  any  other  disposal  of  this 
small  sum,  which  I  considered  to  be  as  sacredly  your  prop- 
erty, from  the  moment  when  He  put  it  in  my  heart  to  send 
it,  as  it  had  been  mine  before.  God,  who  gives  it,  bless  it 
to  you ! " 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

EDITORIAL   NOTICES  —  FUGITIVE   POEMS DR.  AIKIN —  HOME    AFFECTIONS 

—  "THE  WANDERER  OF  SWITZERLAND"  —  ITS  RECEPTION  —  EDINBURGH 
REVIEW  —  NEW  FRIENDS — DANIEL  PARKEN  —  LITTLE  POEMS  —  LYRI- 
CAL BALLADS  —  SOUTHEY'S  ADVICE  TO   ELLIOTT. 

Napoleon  is  now  on  his  march  through  Europe,  and  the 
Iris  weekly  chronicles  his  ravages :  "  In  his  letter  to  the 
Swiss  deputies,  Bonaparte  demands  an  entire  sacrifice  of 
all  their  factious  and  selfish  passions,  and  in  the  same 
breath  he  sets  them  a  noble  example  of  disinterested 
moderation,  by  peremptorily  declaring  that  he  will  not 
permit  the  establishment  of  any  government  in  the  can- 
tons, which  may  be  hostile  to  his  own,  for  Switzerland 
must  in  future  be  '  the  open  frontier  of  France!'*  He  had 
previously  converted  the  Pays  de  Vaud  into  '#  highway* 
between  his  dominions  ;  and  we  may  already  anticipate 
his  seizure  of  the  dykes  of  Holland  to  sivpply  his  table  with 
frogs."  —  January  13,  1803.  "  Bonaparte  has  pronounced 
his  fiat  concerning  Switzerland :  a  constitution  has  been 
recommended  to  the  Helvetic  Consulta,  and  embraced  by 
them  with  becoming  humility.  It  was  received,  discussed, 
and  adopted  in  a  day.  Since  that  time  a  deputation  has 
been  dispatched  to  Paris,  from  the  cantons,  to  beseech  the 
First  Consul  to  inclose  '  the  open  frontier  of  France,'  and 
annex  it  to  the  integrity  of  the  '  Great  Nation.'    "Why 


EDITORIAL   NOTICES.  113 

docs  not  Bonaparte  at  once  pass  a  general  inclosure  bill, 
and  take  in  all  the  waste  lands  in  Europe  —  has  he  not  a 
common  right  to  them  all?"  —  January  20,  1803.  "The 
heart  of  Switzerland  is  broken!  and  liberty  has  been 
driven  from  the  only  sanctuary  which  she  found  on  the 
continent.  But  the  unconquered  and  unconquerable  off- 
spring of  Tell,  disdaining  to  die  slaves  in  the  land  where 
they  were  born  free,  are  emigrating  to  America.  There, 
in  some  region  remote  and  romantic,  where  Solitude  has 
never  seen  the  face  of  man,  nor  Silence  been  startled  by 
his  voice  since  the  hour  of  creation,  may  the  illustrious 
exiles  find  another  Switzerland,  another  country  rendered 
dear  by  the  presence  of  Liberty !  But  even  there,  amid 
mountains  more  awful,  and  forests  more  sombre  than  his 
own,  when  the  echoes  of  the  wilderness  shall  be  awakened 
by  the  enchantment  of  that  song,  which  no  Swiss  in  a 
foreign  clime  ever  heard,  without  fondly  recalling  the  land 
of  his  nativity,  and  weeping  with  affection,  —  how  will  the 
heart  of  the  exile  be  wrung  with  home-sickness !  and  O ! 
what  a  sickness  of  heart  must  that  be  which  arises  not 
from  'hope  delayed,'  but  from  hope  extinguished  —  yet 
remembered/" — February  17,  1803. 

The  heart  of  the  editor  is  glowing  with  sympathy  for 
Switzerland,  in  whose  rocky  defiles  and  icy  fastnesses 
Liberty  has  waged,  through  the  ages,  its  stern  and  unequal 
conflict  with  despotism. 

From  an  interest  thus  kindled,  sprung  the  first  poem 
which  placed  Montgomery's  name  before  the  British  pub- 
lic among  the  list  of  acknowledged  poets.  Conceived  as  a 
simple  ballad,  it  grew  to  a  dramatic  poem  in  six  parts. 
Stirred  as  was  the  author  by  his  theme,  so  distrustful  was 
he  of  his  merits  as  an  artist,  that  it  was  three  years  lag- 
ging through  his  press. 
10* 


114  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

Meanwhile  he  was  paving  his  way  for  welcome  recogni- 
tion, by  sending  abroad,  through  the  columns  of  the  Irisy 
many  a  little  fugitive  of  the  muse,  bearing  the  signature  of 
Alcseus,  and  gradually  winning  upon  the  public  attention. 
Dr.  Aikin,  at  that  time  influential  in  certain  literary  cir- 
cles, transferred  them  to  the  pages  of  his  Annual  Re- 
view, with  flattering  notices,  most  grateful  to  their  modest 
and  then  unknown  author.  Among  them  are  some  of  the 
finest  fruits  of  his  pen. 

The  Common  Lot,  wras  a  birth-day  meditation  during 
a  solitary  walk,  on  a  clear,  cold,  winter's  morning.  In  this 
little  poem  the  fellowships  of  man  with  man  are  grouped 
with  a  simplicity  and  pathos  which  have  stamped  it  with 
a  world-wide  fame. 

The  Joy  of  Grief  utters  what  the  bruised  spirit  hath 
often  felt : 

"  While  the  wounds  of  woe  are  healing, 
While  the  heart  is  all  resigned, 
'Tis  the  solemn  feast  of  feeling, 
Tis  the  Sabbath  of  the  mind." 

The  Grave  discloses 

" a  calm  for  those  who  weep, 


A  rest  for  weary  pilgrims  found  : 

They  softly  lie,  and  sweetly  sleep, 

Low  in  the  ground." 


to1 


But    from  these  "  smouldering  ashes"    the    poet    leaps 
with 

u  The  soul,  of  origin  divine, 

God's  glorious  image,  freed  from  clay, 
In  heaven's  eternal  sphere  to  shine, 
A  star  of  day." 


HOME   AFFECTIONS.  115 

Nor  is  "  the  pillow,  pressed  by  aching  heads,"  or  that 

" little  flower 

With  silver  crest  and  golden  eye, 
That  welcomes  every  changing  hour, 
And  weathers  every  sky," 

or  bird,  or  "cloud,"  below  or  beyond  the  "picturing 
powers  of  his  song." 

"  Most  of  the  pieces  of  distinguished  merit  which  adorn 
the  Poetical  Register  are  signed  with  the  names  of  writers 
already  known  to  the  public,"  says  the  Doctor.  "  We  ob- 
serve, however,  some  with  the  signature  Alcseus,  which 
are  excelled  by  none  in  spirit,  originality,  and  true  po- 
etic fire." 

Home  duties  sprung  up  in  the  young  man's  path.  "  I 
am  glad  to  hear  from  you,"  writes  Joseph  Gales  from  this 
side  of  the  waters,  "  that  my  sisters  are  doing  pretty  well. 
Accept,  my  good  friend,  of  my  most  cordial  thanks  for 
your  friendly  attention  to  them.  Be  to  them  still,  as  you 
have  in  some  good  degree  been,  a  brother  in  my  stead 
who  am  lost  to  them.  And  also  suffer  me  to  entreat  you 
—  though  I  am  satisfied  entreaty  is  unnecessary  —  to  con- 
tinue to  show  kindness  to  the  good  old  folks,  my  aged 
parents.     I  fear  they  have  suffered  greatly  on  my  account. 

0  that  I  could  soothe  and  comfort  them  as  they  sink  into 
the  grave!  But  this  is  denied  me.  O,  do  it  for  me,  my 
dear  Montgomery,  as  you  have  opportunity !" 

Fraternal  affections  pleasantly  reveal  themselves  in  the 
following  letter  from  Montgomery  to  his  adopted  sisters, 
the  Misses   Gales,  while  on  a  visit  to  Scarborough  : 

"  My  dear  friends,  you  will  be  curious,  if  not  anxious,  to 
know  how  I  come  on  in  the  world  of  Scarborough.     Since 

1  wrote  last  to  you  I  have  outlived  a  whole  generation  of 


116  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

visitors  at  this  house,  and  am  now  a  kind  of  antediluvian 
patriarch  of  a  whole  fortnight's  standing.  In  consequence 
of  this,  I  have  been,  by  the  law  of  primogeniture,  exalted 
to  the  head  of  the  table,  which  you  may  be  sure  is  an 
honor  I  most  reluctantly  accepted,  and  which  I  bear  most 
meekly.  Hitherto  I  have  had  some  good  supporters  about 
me  in  some  fat  and  fair  ladies,  who  sit  next  to  me,  and 
among  whom  I  appear  like  a  rush-light  among  torches. 
They  assist  me  in  carving,  and  almost  entirely  save  me  the 
trouble  of  talking,  for  both  of  which  I  am  truly  thankful. 
*  How  do  you  employ  your  time  ?'  you  are  ready  to  ask. 
I  employ  it  so  stupidly  that  I  could  very  well  afford  to 
lend  six  hours  a  day,  on  good  security,  to  any  lady  or 
gentleman  who  would  pay  me  handsome  interest  for  it.  I 
eat  and  drink  and  walk  all  day,  and  try  to  sleep  all  night. 
I  never  in  my  life  lived  so  long  a  time  without  fire.  It  is 
a  fact,  that  I  have  never  seen  a  fire  in  this  house,  nor  been 
near  one  in  all  Scarborough,  except  at  the  barber's  shop, 
to  the  best  of  my  recollection.  There  is  self-denial  with  a 
vengeance  for  you  !  I  only  smoke  one  pipe  at  night,  and 
sometimes  none.  I  have  several  times  been  out  in  a  small 
boat  for  a  few  miles  in  the  bay.  This  is  very  pleasant ; 
and  the  sea-breezes  are  like  gales  from  paradise;  they 
warm  my  withered  heart  into  life,  and  blow  my  mildewed 
cheeks  into  bloom.  One  evening  I  went  out  a-fishing,  and 
had  charming  sport.  For  two  hours,  in  a  chill  atmosphere, 
on  a  dark  sea,  I  watched  a  cork  floating,  till  my  eyes 
ached  and  my  brain  was  dizzy  ;  and  so  intent  and  expert 
was  I  at  the  trade,  that  for  a  long  time  I  was  fishing  with 
a  naked  hoolc,  the  rogues  below  having  nibbled  away  the 
bait.  I  have  often  fished  along  the  stream  of  life  in  this 
manner.  However,  on  this  memorable  occasion  I  caught 
two  fishes  ;   but  it  was  not  my  fault.      I  could  not  help  it ; 


MONTGOMERY'S    FOUR   FRIENDS.  H7 

they  hung  themselves  with  my  line,  and  I  hope  they  for- 
gave me  with  their  dying  breath ;  and  this  they  ought  to 
have  done,  because  I  have  freely  forgiven  their  brethren 
who  would  not  let  me  catch  them. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  say  about  my  health  ;  and  as  for 
my  sjririts,  they  have  been  several  times  so  agitated  since 
I  came  hither,  that,  like  the  sea  after  a  storm,  they  will  be 
a  long  time  before  they  can  rock  themselves  calm.  Pray 
write  to  me  soon ;  and  don't,  on  any  account,  forget  to 
tell  me  how  your  dear  and  honored  parents  are.  I  was 
dreaming  last  night  with  all  my  might  about  you  alto- 
gether. Give  my  best  remembrance  to  all  my  friends  who 
think  me  worth  inquiring  after.  Have  I  not  been  very 
good  to  write  three  times  to  Sheffield,  and  never  once 
inquire  after  my  brute  creation  ?  Give  my  love  to  Bully 
[the  bird],  to  Blunder  [the  dog],  and  what  you  please  to 
Puss.  Tell  the  garden  that  I  hope  it  is  in  good  health, 
and  grows  well  in  my  absence.     Farewell." 

Among  his  Sheffield  acquaintance,  there  were  three  drawn 
towards  him  by  congeniality  of  tastes  and  purposes,  whose  in- 
timacy formed  the  most  delightful  portion  of  his  social  life  : 
Samuel  Roberts,  a  master  manufacturer,  whose  large  and 
flourishing  business  did  not  hinder  him  from  occasion- 
ally occupying  the  poet's  corner  of  the  Iris,  or  harden  his 
heart  against  the  cry  of  suffering  humanity;  Rowland 
Hodgson,  a  gentleman  of  fortune  and  piety;  and  Mr. 
George  Bennett,  a  vigorous  promoter  of  all  the  new 
evangelical  agencies,  just  starting  on  their  beneficent  er- 
rands to  a  sorrowing  world.  For  more  than  a  quarter 
of  a  century,  these  four  friends  met  once  a  month  at  each 
other's  houses,  to  lay  out  plans,  and  to  strengthen  each 
other  in  labors  of  Christian  usefulness.  Chantrey's  genius, 
whose  suburban  birth  made  Sheffield  proud  to  claim  him 


118  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

as  her  own  child,  was  early  recognized  by  Montgomery, 
and  the  Iris  was  the  first  paper  which  introduced  him  to 
the  public,  and  predicted  his  renown. 

In  1805,  when  he  was  in  Sheffield  painting  portraits  in  oil 
for  four  guineas,  he  took  an  excellent  likeness  of  the  poet, 
from  which  the  engraving  in  this  volume  was  taken. 

January  9,  1806,  the  Iris  advertised  The  Wanderer  of 
Switzerland.  Three  years  passing  through  the  press,  the 
edition,  five  hundred  copies,  was  sold  in  as  many  weeks.  A 
second  edition  was  soon  printed  in  London,  and  the  author 
was  offered  a  hundred  pounds  for  his  copyright.  This  he 
declined,  to  accept  proposals  from  Longman  &  Co.,  popular 
publishers  in  the  metropolis,  giving  him  half  the  profits  and 
allowing  him  to  retain  the  copyright. 

The  Wanderer  of  Switzerland  had  no  reason  to  com- 
plain of  his  reception.  The  subject  —  a  patriotic  plaint  over 
down-trodden  liberties,  impersonated  in  the  touching  ex- 
periences of  a  fugitive  family  —  was  one  which  directly 
appealed  to  the  strongest  affections  and  best  instincts  of 
the  heart.  In  certain  circles  it  was  very  popular.  And 
though  the  popularity  of  a  work  at  its  outset  is  no  neces- 
sary proof  of  genuine  merit,  it  forms  an  important  item  in 
its  marketable  value.  Its  success  surprised  its  author,  and 
the  generous  welcome  given  it  by  many  of  the  critics  of  the 
day  reassured  him  in  this  road  to  fame. 

In  a  favorable  notice  in  the  Eclectic  Review,  whose 
tone  was  given  by  such  men  as  Robert  Hall,  John  Foster, 
Dr.  Gregory,  and  Adam  Clark  :  "  We  are  happy,"  ran  one 
paragraph  of  the  editor's  criticism,  "  to  recognize  in  Mr. 
Montgomery  the  AIcsbus,  whose  lyre  has  often  delighted 
us.  He  displays  a  rich  and  romantic  fancy,  a  tender  heart, 
a  copious  and  active  command  of  imagery  and  language, 
and  an  irresistible  influence  over  the  feelings.     His  shorter 


"WANDERER   OF   SWITZERLAND."  ng 

poems  are  elegant  and  tasteful ;  some  of  them  are  highly 
poetical  and  interesting ;  others  assume  a  degree  of  cheer- 
fulness, yet  very  much  softened  by  an  air  of  tender  melan- 
choly. It  is  in  the  higher  spheres  of  sentiment  that  he 
touches  the  chords  with  the  hand  of  a  master.  From  many 
passages  in  this  volume  we  presume,  and  indeed  hope,  that 
Mr.  M.  has  had  real  causes  of  grief,  and  that  he  has  not 
assumed  a  tone  of  melancholy,  as  he  might  a  black  coat, 
from  an  idea  that  it  was  fashionable  and  becoming.  We  per- 
ceive, with  no  small  pleasure,  that  his  heart  is  not  insensible 
to  religious  sentiment :  we  hope  that  his  religion  is  genuine, 
as  well  as  warm,  not  a  feeling  merely,  but  a  habit ;  and  that 
his  fine  talents  are  devoted  to  the  service  of  Him  cwho 
giveth  the  garment  of  praise  for  the  spirit  of  heaviness.'" 

This  hope  a  subsequent  intimacy  amply  verified.  A  cor- 
respondence was  soon  opened  between  Daniel  Parken,  Esq., 
editor  of  the  Eclectic,  and  Montgomery,  and  long  before  the 
two  met  there  existed  a  delightful  and  intimate  interchange 
of  thought  and  feeling. 

Montgomery  appears  for  a  time  contributor  to  the  Review. 

Dr.  Aikin,  already  so  much  interested  in  the  rising  fame 
of  the  unknown  poet,  was  more  than  ever  charmed  with 
Tlie  Wanderer  of  Switzerland y  and  when  his  identity  was 
fairly  recognized,  no  warmer  friend  had  he  than  Miss  Lucy 
Aikin,  the  Doctor's  gifted  daughter,  who  did  not  hesitate 
to  declare  herself  "  delighted  that  the  loved  Alcasus  was  at 
last  found  out."     The  Doctor  thus  wrote  him  : 

"  Stoko  Newington,  January  29,  1807. 
"  Dear  Sir, 

"  Your  last  letter,  relating  chiefly  to  the  third  edition 
of  your  poems,  I  did  not  feel  that  it  required  a  particular 
answer;  and  having  been  much  occupied  with  the  Athe- 


120  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

nseum,  and  other  concerns,  I  was  not  disposed  to  write 
more  than  was  necessary.  The  interval  of  your  correspond- 
ence now,  however,  seems  so  long,  that  I  am  impatient  for 
its  renewal ;  and,  besides,  I  owe  you  an  acknowledgment 
for  the  lustre  you  have  thrown  upon  our  first  number  by 
your  Molehill.  It  has,  I  assure  you,  been  much  admired, 
and  been  judged  worthy  of  its  author.  My  friend,  Mr. 
Roscoe,  told  me  he  recognized  the  muse  of  Montgomery  in 
the  first  stanza.  I  know  not  how  to  urge  you  for  future 
contributions,  since  you  ought  to  have  in  view  a  second 
volume  of  virgin  pieces ;  but  whatever  you  may  think  fit  to 
bestow  on  us  will  meet  with  a  cordial  welcome. 

"  I  know  not  how  to  condole  with  you  on  the  increased 
occupation  of  your  time,  that  the  discovery  of  your  merits 
by  the  world  has  brought  upon  you.  If  the  effects  are 
somewhat  burthensome,  the  cause  is  such  that  your  friends 
cannot  lament  it.  I  will  hope,  however,  I  shall  not  be  a 
sufferer  from  the  additional  correspondents  you  are  obliged 
to  entertain,  but  that  you  will  continue  to  favor  me  with 
those  confidential  displays  of  your  mind  which  have  been 
so  delightful  to  me. 

"  We  often  indulge  ourselves  with  the  vague  expectation 
that  you  will  sometime  find  the  call  of  business  or  inclina- 
tion strong  enough  to  induce  you  to  visit  London,  notwith- 
standing all  obstacles.  I  scarcely  need  to  assure  you  that 
few  circumstances  would  give  me  so  much  pleasure  as  the 
opportunity  of  forming  a  personal  acquaintance  with  you. 
If  you  could  be  persuaded  to  become  a  guest  in  my  house, 
you  would  find  a  whole  family  prepared  to  regard  you  rather 
as  an  old  friend  than  a  stranger. 

"  Accept  our  united  respects  and  kind  wishes,  and  believe 
me,  dear  sir,  Yours,  most  sincerely, 

"J.  Aikin." 


CRITITQUE    OF   "THE    EDINBURGH."         121 

To  prevent  any  undue  elation  in  the  bosom  of  the  grati- 
fied poet,  the  Edinburgh  Review,  the  terror  of  authors, 
young  and  old,  shook  its  paw  in  his  face,  with  a  threatening 
growl.  "  A  third  edition  is  too  alarming  to  be  passed  over 
in  silence,"  it  declares ;  "  and  though  we  are  perfectly  per- 
suaded that  in  less  than  three  years  nobody  will  know  the 
name  of  The  Wanderer  of  Switzerland^  or  any  of  the  other 
poems  in  this  collection,  still  we  think  ourselves  called  on 
to  interfere  to  prevent,  as  far  as  in  us  lies,  the  mischief  that 
may  arise  from  the  intermediate  prevalence  of  so  distressing 
an  epidemic.  It  is  hard  to  say  what  numbers  of  ingenuous 
youth  may  be  led  to  expose  themselves  in  public,  by  the 
success  of  this  performance,  or  what  addition  may  be  made 
in  a  few  months  to  that  great  sinking-fund  of  bad  taste, 
which  is  daily  wearing  down  the  debt  which  we  have  so 
long  owed  to  the  classical  writers  of  antiquity. 

"After  all,  we  believe  it  scarcely  possible  to  sell  three 
editions  of  a  work  absolutely  without  merit ;  and  Mr.  Mont- 
gomery has  the  merit  of  smooth  versification,  blameless 
morality,  and  a  sort  of  sickly  affectation  of  delicacy  and  fine 
feelings,  which  is  apt  to  impose  on  the  amiable  part  of  the 
young  and  the  illiterate.  The  wonder  with  us  is,  how  these 
qualities  should  still  excite  any  portion  of  admiration ;  for 
there  is  no  mistake  more  gross,  or  more  palpable,  than  that 
it  requires  any  extraordinary  talents  to  write  tolerable  verses 
upon  ordinary  subjects.  On  the  contrary,  we  are  persuaded 
that  this  is  an  accomplishment  which  maybe  acquired  more 
certainly  and  more  speedily  than  most  of  those  to  which 
the  studies  of  youth  arc  directed,  and  in  which  mere  in- 
dustry will  always  be  able  to  secure  a  certain  degree  of 
excellence.  There  are  few  young  men  who  have  the  slight- 
est tincture  of  literary  ambition  who  have  not,  at  some  time 
in  their  lives,  indited  middling  verses ;  and  accordingly,  in 
11 


122  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

the  instructed  classes  of  society,  there  is  nothing  more 
nauseated  than  middling  poetry.  The  truth  is,  however, 
that  the  diligent  readers  of  poetry  in  this  country  are  by  no 
means  instructed.  They  consist  chiefly  of  young,  half-edu- 
cated women,  sickly  tradesmen,  and  enamored  apprentices. 
To  such  persons  the  faculty  of  composing  rhyme  always  ap- 
pears little  less  than  miraculous,  and  if  the  verses  be  toler- 
ably melodious,  and  contain  a  sufficient  quantity  of  those 
exaggerated  phrases  with  which  they  have  become  familiar 
at  the  playhouse  and  the  circulating  library,  they  have  a 
fair  chance  of  being  extolled  with  unmeasured  praises,  till 
supplanted  by  some  newer  or  more  fashionable  object  of 
idolatry.  These  are  the  true  poetical  consumers  of  a  com- 
munity—  the  persons  who  take  off  editions,  and  create  a 
demand  for  nonsense,  which  the  improved  ingenuity  of  the 
times  can  with  difficulty  supply.  It  is  in  the  increasing 
number  and  luxury  of  this  class  of  readers,  that  we  must 
seek  for  the  solution  of  such  a  phenomenon  as  a  third  edi- 
tion of  The  Wanderer  of  /Switzerland,  within  six  months 
from  the  appearance  of  the  first.  The  perishable  nature  of 
the  celebrity  which  is  derived  from  this  kind  of  joatronage, 
may  be  accounted  for  as  easily,  from  the  character  and  con- 
dition of  those  who  confer  it.  The  girls  grow  up  into 
women,  and  occupy  themselves  in  suckling  their  children, 
or  scolding  their  servants ;  the  tradesmen  take  to  drinking 
or  to  honest  industry ;  and  the  lovers,  when  metamorphosed 
into  husbands,  lay  aside  their  poetical  favorites  with  their 
thin  shoes  and  perfumed  handkerchiefs.  All  of  them  grow 
ashamed  of  their  admiration  in  a  reasonably  short  time,  and 
no  more  think  of  imposing  the  taste  than  the  dress  of  their 
youth  upon  a  succeeding  generation. 

"  Mr.  Montgomery  is  one  of  the  most  musical  and  melan- 
choly line  gentlemen  we  have  lately  descried  on  the  lower 


SENSITIVENESS   TO   CRITICISM.  123 

slopes  of  Parnassus.  He  is  very  weakly,  very  finical,  and 
very  affected.  His  affectations,  too,  are  the  most  usual,  and 
the  most  offensive  of  those  that  are  commonly  met  with  in 
the  species  to  which  he  belongs.  They  are  affectations  of 
extreme  tenderness  and  delicacy,  and  of  great  energy  and 
enthusiasm.  Whenever  he  does  not  whine  he  must  rant. 
The  scanty  stream  of  his  genius  is  never  allowed  to  steal 
quietly  along  its  channel,  but  it  is  either  poured  out  in  mel- 
ancholy tears,  or  thrown  up  to  heaven  in  all  the  frothy 
magnificence  of  tiny  jets  and  artificial  commotions." 

The  caustic  raillery  of  the  Edinburgh,  though  often 
whetted  against  real  merit  and  true  genius,  did,  neverthe- 
less, a  wholesome  work  for  literature.  Slow  often  in  its 
discernments,  overbearing  in  its  temper,  and  rude  in  its  on- 
slaughts, it  provoked  careful  study,  a  more  vigorous  tone, 
and  higher  finish  among  the  writers  of  that  day.  Real 
ability  it  could  crowd,  but  not  crush ;  and  the  lessons  taught 
by  its  flagellations  were  sometimes  those  which  laid  the 
foundations  for  successful  authorship  and  permanent  fame. 

Montgomery  winced  before  its  verdict. 

"The  Edinburgh  Review  has,  indeed,  made  me  miser- 
able beyond  anything  that  the  malice  or  the  tyranny  of  man 
had  been  able  to  inflict  on  my  sensibility,  or  on  my  pride 
before,"  he  writes  to  Parken.  "  All  that  I  suffered  from 
political  persecution  and  personal  animosity  in  the  former 
part  of  my  life,  seemed  manly  and  generous  opposition  in 
comparison  with  the  cowardly,  yet  audacious  malignity  of 
this  critic,  who  took  advantage  of  the  eminence  on  which 
he  was  placed,  beyond  the  reach  of  retaliation,  to  curse  me 
like  Shimei.  However,  be  it  as  it  may,  and  much  as  I  have 
suffered  from  it  both  in  health  and  mind,  I  would  rather  be 
the  object  than  the  author  of  snch  outrageous  abuse.  Your 
letter  found  me  in  the  depth  of  despondency,  in  which  that 


124  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

critique,  and  another,  in  reality,  far  more  formidable  event, 
which  was  made  known  to  ■  me  on  the  same  day,  had 
plunged  me.  A  rival  newspaper  was  announced  in  Shef- 
field, and  I  foreboded  little  less  than  utter  ruin  to  mine 
from  my  knowledge  of  the  persons  concerned  in  it.  In 
that  situation  of  mind,  in  the  very  week  in  which  I  was 
thus  assailed,  both  in  fame  and  fortune,  by  unmerciful  and 
interested  men,  I  wrote,  from  the  binding  pledge  which  I 
had  given  you,  the  remarks  on  "Walter  Scott's  last  poems. 
I  scarcely  recollect  what  I  said  of  them,  for  I  have  never 
yet  ventured  to  revise  my  rough  copies,  and  during  the 
three  or  four  days  in  which  I  composed  them,  by  stratagem 
as  it  were  —  stealing  a  moment  or  a  minute  at  a  time,  as  I 
could  snatch  them  from  the  gloom  of  my  mind,  and  the 
distraction  of  my  thoughts.  This  I  know  well,  that,  racked 
and  broken  as  I  was  myself  on  the  wheel  of  the  Scotch  in- 
quisitors, I  showed  all  the  mercy  that  my  conscience  would 
permit  towards  him.  I  did  him  all  the  justice  that  I  could, 
though  I  could  not  help  feeling  some  of  the  weakness  and 
wickedness  of  envy  towards  him,  as  he  had  been  the  fa- 
vorite, and,  I  understand,  the  associate  of  my  butchers; 
none  of  that  envy,  however,  I  hope  is  betrayed  in  my  re- 
view. I  tried  with  all  my  might  to  hide  the  cloven  foot ; 
if  I  have  shown  it,  chop  it  off,  for  I  would  rather  limp  on  a 
wooden  leg  than  be  seen  dancing  with  it.  When  your 
letter  came,  as  I  said  before,  I  was  very  unhappy ;  it  was 
like  a  rainbow  to  my  hopes,  which  had  sickened  in  the 
deferred  expectation  of  hearing  from  you  soon  after  the  re- 
ceipt of  my  review  of  Scott's  '  Ballads.'  Since  that  time  I 
have  been  slowly  recovering  my  composure.  The  poison- 
tree  of  Edinburgh  has  not  killed  me  this  time  with  its  pesti- 
lential influence,  nor  shall  I  be  immediately  reduced  to 
beggary  by  my  rival  newsmonger.', 


A  RIVAL   NEWSPAPER.  125 

All,  the  rubs  and  chances  of  fortune.  "The  web  of  our 
life  is  of  a  mingled  yarn,  good  and  ill  together."  "We  are 
glad  to  see  the  poet  has  stuff  in  him  not  easily  put  down. 
A  frost  has  indeed  come  upon  his  "  blushing  honors,"  but 
not  a  killing  one. 

"  I  thank  you,"  he  says,  to  a  friend,  "  for  your  consola- 
tions on  my  escape,  with  barely  my  life  in  my  hand,  from 
the  tomahawks  of  the  northern  banditti.  I  yet  feel  the 
venom  on  my  cheek  —  this  is  downright  pride,  I  know.  If 
I  had  been  a  thousandth  part  as  humble  in  heart  as  I  pre- 
tend to  be,  I  should  scarcely  have  felt  the  insect  —  at  least 
it  would  have  been  as  little  as  the  injury,  which  I  trust  has 
not  been  very  great. 

"  If  I  am  getting  neither  fame  or  money,  I  have  all  the 
plague  without  the  profit  of  them,  for  literary  and  pecuni- 
ary engagements  continually  press  and  even  harass  me.  I 
have  hardly  drawn  one  peaceful  breath  to-day;  and  three 
proofs  are  now  waiting  at  my  elbow.  I  cannot  go  to  Man- 
chester these  —  months !  —  I  won't  say  how  many. 

"  On  Monday  last,  proposals  were  issued  for  publishing  a 

new  newspaper  in  Sheffield,  by  a  person  who  formerly  wras 

in  my  office  nearly  nine  years.     My  very  bread  and  water 

are  now  precarious,  and,  unless  I  wrestle  hard  to  keep  them, 

the  staff  and  the  cup  of  life  will  be  snatched  from  me  by 

one  who  founds  his  expectations  of  success  principally,  I 

am  convinced,  on  my  unpopularity  and  imbecility.     This  is 

dreadfully  humiliating  :  I  have  been  drowning,  these  twelve 

years,  and  just  when  I  imagined  I  was  getting  my  head 

above  water,  comes  a  hand  and  plunges  me  into  the  deep 

again  !     The  other  misery  that  I  fell  into  on  the  same  day, 

is  perhaps  yet  more  mortifying  ;  I  received  the  Edinburgh 

review  of  my  poems." 

A  fair  picture  of  an  author  and  editor  behind  the  scenes. 
11* 


126  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

Let  nobody  envy  him,  or  ignorantly  suppose,  from  the 
well-filled  and  easily  read  columns  which  issue  from  his 
work-shop,  that  his  life  is  made  "to  run  ever  upon 
even  ground." 

Another  criticism  of  "The  Edinburgh,"  a  few  months 
later,  wounding  as  deeply,  was  less  passively  endured.  The 
avenging  pen  of  Byron  came  to  the  rescue  of  suffering  and 
smarting  authorship ;  and  his  "  English  Bards  and  Scotch 
Reviewers"  turned  its  weapons  back  upon  itself  with  scath- 
ing power.  Never  was  returned  a  smarter  blow;  never 
boxer  had  a  more  motley  or  applauding  ring. 

The  Wanderer  of  Switzerland  came  over  the  water. 
Perhaps  the  same  packet  brought  the  weird  "  Thalaba,"  the 
last  new  novel  of  "  The  Great  Unknown,"  as  Scott  incog, 
was  then  called,  a  song  from  Moore,  and  perhaps  the  famous 
sermon  of  Dr.  Buchanan  preached  at  Bristol,  and  entitled, 
"  Star  in  East,"  which  so  kindled  the  fire  of  missionary  zeal 
in  the  New  England  heart. 

A  stranger,  dating  from  "  Home,  State  of  New  York," 
wrote  to  him :  —  "  Perhaps  a  complimentary  letter  from  the 
banks  of  the  Mohawk  is  a  novelty  in  England ;  yet  as  I  am 
one  of  your  many  admirers  in  these  distant  forests,  I  beg 
leave  to  address  you,  whom  I  am  sure  it  will  not  displease 
to  be  told  that  tears  are  shed  in  these  wilds  at  the  pathetic, 
soul-subduing  songs  of  the  unfortunate  '  Wanderer.'  The 
little  village  in  which  I  reside  is  not  far  removed  from  such 
savage  scenes  as  you  have  described  : 

"  '  Realms  of  mountains,  dark  with  woods, 

In  Columbia's  bosom  lie :     .     .     . 
There,  in  glens  and  caverns  rude, 

Silent  since  the  world  began, 
Dwells  the  virgin  Solitude, 

Unbetrayed  by  faithless  man.' 


CRITIQUE    ON    MOORE'S   POEMS.  127 

The  Wanderer  of  Switzerland  has,  indeed,  an  unpar- 
alleled popularity  in  this  country :  three  editions  are  nearly 
exhausted,  in  the  northern,  and  I  know  not  what  quantity 
have  been  printed  in  the  southern  States.  It  is  in  the  hand 
of  every  person  who  has  any  pretension  to  taste." 

And  as  an  evidence  that  the  predictions  of  the  "  northern 
banditti"  were  not  always  made  good  by  time,  twenty 
years  after  its  first  appearance  twelve  thousand  copies  had 
been  sold,  netting  four  thousand  dollars  cash  profits  to  its 
author,  and  its  seventh  edition  was  just  then  advertised  by 
the  publishers  Longman  &  Co. 

Parken  having  engaged  Montgomery  for  the  Eclectic, 
he  thus  writes  the  editor,  enclosing  a  criticism  upon  the 
shameless  productions  of  Thomas  Little,  the  well  known 
soubriquet  of  Moore  :  — 

"Sheffield,  September  1,  1806. 
"Dear  Sir, 

"I  have  taken  the  earliest  opportunity  to  return 
Thomas  Moore's  poems,  with  as  few  remarks  as  I  could 
possibly  make  on  them,  though  you  will  probably  think 
them  too  many;  but  if  you  knew  how  much  I  have  cur- 
tailed even  what  I  had  written,  and  how  much  more  I  have 
omitted  to  write  at  all,  which  occurred  to  my  mind,  and 
begged  hard  for  admission  as  evidence  against  him,  you 
would  give  me  great  credit  for  forbearance.  However, 
your  discretion  must  determine  how  far  this  article  must  be 
further  abridged.  It  has  been  the  most  difficult  task  which 
you  have  yet  set  me,  for  as  I  was  restricted,  and  very  justly 
too,  from  making  extracts,  I  was  obliged  to  confine  myself 
to  very  general  remarks,  and  to  be  as  guarded  as  possible 
in  the  expression  of  them,  not  to  provohe  evil  imaginations, 
while  I  was  endeavoring  to  rcjwess  them.     The  subject  is 


128  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

so  abominable  that  it  cannot  be  touched  without  defilement : 
but  it  must  be  touched ;  and  this  shameless  publication  can- 
not be  slightly  passed  over  by  you  ('Eclectic'  Reviewers), 
as  the  defenders  of  that  revelation  which  requires  purity  of 
heart  and  holiness  in  all  manner  of  conversation.  Besides, 
the  work  is  of  uncommon  genius ;  this  cannot  be  denied ; 
nay,  it  must  be  conceded,  lest  the  world  should  say  you 
have  not  the  honesty  cto  give  the  devil  his  due.'  Under 
these  considerations,  I  can  only  assure  you  that  I  have  done 
my  best  —  that  is  my  worst  —  to  condemn  this  profligate 
volume  according  to  the  strictest  justice,  which  would 
neither  ask  nor  give  one  grain  of  allowance,  for  in  this 
cause  I  felt  it  my  duty  neither  to  take  nor  grant  any  quar- 
ter. I  therefore  endeavored  to  admit  the  full  merit  of  the 
author's  talents,  while  I  did  not  spare  one  hair  of  his  de- 
merits as  a  libertine  hi  principle,  and  a  deliberate  seducer 
hi  practice.  I  am  so  exceedingly  depressed  in  spirit  to-day, 
that  I  can  hardly  think  straightforward,  much  less  write 
clearly. 

"  I  am,  very  truly,  your  obliged  friend  and  servant, 

"  J.  Montgomery." 

The  January  number  of  the  Eclectic  contained  Mont- 
gomery's critique  on  Wordsworth's  "Lyrical  Ballads," 
&c.,*  concerning  wThich  he  had  thus  written  to  the  editor 
three  months  previously : — 

"  I  am  almost  sure  that  you  and  I  differ  very  widely  in 
our  opinions  concerning  Wordsworth's  talents,  and  per- 
haps more  concerning  his  performances.  My  free,  sin- 
cere, and  utterly  unbiassed  sentiments  I  send  you,  not  at 
all  dreading  your  displeasure,  because  I  hold  a  poet's 
merits  in  higher  estimation  than  you  do.  I  know  that 
*  Eclectic  Review,  vol.  iv.,  p.  35. 


CRITIQUE   ON  "LYRICAL   BALLADS."  129 

when  you  engage  me  to  review  any  work,  it  is  my  own 
judgment  that  you  require  me  to  exercise,  and  you  do 
not  expect  that  it  shall  always  be  in  consonance  with 
yours.  I  feel  exceeding  great  reluctance  to  censure  the 
works  of  a  man  of  high  and  noble  genius,  however  un- 
worthy of  him,  because  I  am  aware  that  the  vivid  imagina- 
tion of  poets,  which  I  doubt  not  is  always  accompanied 
with  equal  self-complacency,  often  seduces  them  into  errors 
which  they  know  not  to  be  such,  but  mistake  them  for 
excellencies  of  the  purest  order,  when  they  are  nothing 
but  delirious  wanderings  from  truth  and  nature.  Yet  it  is 
hard  to  punish  them  for  such  follies,  as  if  they  had  been 
guilty  of  crimes ;  lenity  is  not  the  character  of  any  exist- 
ing Review,  nor  are  any  of  our  periodical  critics  too  lavish 
of  praise.  I  hope  that  your  readers  will  find  as  much 
rigor  of  censure  in  this  article  as  will  reconcile  them  to 
the  warmth  of  commendation  which  I  have  most  honestly 
and  heartily  bestowed  on  Wordsworth's  undeniable  merits. 
The  cry  is  up ;  and  it  is  the  fashion  to  yelp  him  down.  I 
belong  not  to  the  pack,  nor  will  I  wag  my  tongue  or  my 
tail,  on  any  occasion,  to  please  the  multitude.  I  am  con- 
scious of  no  personal  partiality  to  prejudice  me  in  favor 
of  Wordsworth.  I  am  sure  the  poetry  of  two  men  can- 
not differ  much  more  widely  than  his  does  from  mine.  I 
hate  his  baldness  and  vulgarity  of  phrase,  and  I  doubt  not 
he  equally  detests  the  splendor  and  foppery  of  mine  ;  but 
I  feel  the  pulse  of  poetry  beating  through  every  vein  of 
thought  in  all  his  compositions,  even  in  his  most  pitiful, 
puerile,  and  affected  pieces.  To  you  I  need  not  add  that 
his  frigid  mention  of  my  name  in  his  first  note  has  not 
influenced  me  to  speak  more  favorably  of  him  than  I 
otherwise  would  have  done.  It  is  a  proud  and  almost 
contemptuous  notice  which  he  has  taken  of  me  and  my 


130  LIFE   OF   MONTGOMERY. 

'  Daisy'  (I  won't  change  mine  for  his  three  daisies),  and 
was  more  calculated  to  mortify  and  provoke  a  jealous 
temper,  than  to  soothe  and  disarm  one  who  had  the  power 
and  the  opportunity  to  humble  a  rival  in  the  eye  of  the 
public.  No  !  I  am  persuaded  in  my  own  mind,  that  I 
have  done  him  justice  to  the  best  of  my  knowledge.  I 
only  regret  that  you  will  probably  derive  less  satisfaction 
from  the  perusal  of  this  essay  than  you  might  have  done 
had  our  opinions  been  in  perfect  harmony.  You  must 
not  be  alarmed  at  the  apparent  length ;  for,  though  the 
first  four  pages  are  closely  written,  the  following  ones  are 
loose,  and  the  whole  will  make  no  more,  I  believe,  than 
eight  of  yours  at  the  most.  I  confess  that  I  tore  myself 
from  poetry  to  criticism,  on  this  occasion,  with  excessive 
reluctance.  My  mind  was  so  alive  with  images  and  senti- 
ments connected  with  my  West  Indian  i^oem,  that  I  did 
violence  to  my  most  favorite  feelings  to  undertake  this 
review.  Nobody  but  you,  and  my  own  binding  promise, 
could  have  moved  me." 

To  his  friend  Parken  he  writes,  October  1,  1806  : 
"  Take  the  worst  news  I  have  to  tell  you.  I  have  not 
written  a  line  about  Wool's  Warton,  but  indeed  I  will  do 
my  very  best  to  send  you  the  article  in  ten  days,  so  that, 
instead  of  Monday  next,  do  not  expect  it  before  Monday 
se'nnight.  If  you  can  forgive  this,  read  forward  ;  if  not, 
throw  this  letter  into  the  fire,  and  write  me  as  scolding  an 
answer  as  you  can,  and  take  care  that  it  be  charged  with 
treble  postage ;  I  will  not  lose  it  at  the  post-office,  if  it  be 
an  angry  one,  and  be  less  than  three  full  sheets.  Now  I 
hold  you  at  defiance  ;  you  will  cool  before  you  have  writ- 
ten one  page  of  hard  words  against  so  poor  an  offender  as 
I  am,  and  the  moment  you  cool,  I  shall  be  pardoned,  and 
received  into  more  gracious  favor  than  ever.     Now,  as  I 


LETTER   TO    PARKEN.  131 

see  you  are  a  much  more  reasonable  being  than  you  were 
a  dozen  lines  ago,  hear  my  apology,  —  may  you  never  feel 
it !  During  the  whole  of  the  last  month  I  have  been  sink- 
ing in  despondency,  till  I  have  hardly  had  the  spirit  to 
languish  through  my  ordinary  drudgery  of  business,  and 
much  less  to  listen  to  Wool's  dull  narrative  and  stupid 
criticism,  which  are  both  so  wretchedly  neutral,  that  they 
can  no  more  provoke  than  they  can  delight  me  ;  and,  un- 
less I  am  in  a  rapture  or  in  a  rage,  I  can  find  neither 
thoughts  nor  language  to  employ  for  or  against  an  author. 
I  do  not  intend  to  tell  the  public  how  very  humbly  I  think 
of  this  huge  quarto,  which  is  as  flat  and  as  unmeaning  to 
me  as  a  grave-stone  with  no  other  inscription  than,  '  Here 
lies  Joseph  "YVarton,  D.D.' 

"  I  cannot  engage  to  furnish  you  with  any  remarks  on 
this  work  in  less  time  than  I  have  named,  because  I  have 
to  go  into  Derbyshire  at  the  beginning  of  next  week,  which 
will  take  me  away  for  several  days.  But  I  will  endeavor 
to  make  you  amends  in  the  course  of  the  month  by  send- 
ing you  a  few  pages  on  the  '  Life  of  Colonel  Hutchinson,' 
which  fell  like  a  judgment  upon  me  this  afternoon  for  not 
having  despatched  Warton  sooner :  I  never  received  a 
parcel  before  from  you  that  was  only  half  welcome  ;  but 
this  was  indeed  so,  because  it  reminded  me  of  my  trans- 
gression, and  inflicted  a  new  penance  on  me,  at  a  timi 
when  I  am  very  ill  qualified  to  bear  any  of  '  the  miseries 
of  human  life.'  I  will  send  you  one  of  my  newspapers  by 
post  to-morrow.  You  will  find  on  the  last  page  of  it  a 
few  most  melancholy  stanzas,  breathed,  or  rather  groaned 
out  (in  the  language  of  Timothy  Testy,  —  that  is,  you, 
when  you  read  this  letter,  —  and  Samuel  Sensitive,  —  that 
is,  me,  while  I  am  writing  it)  in  the  bitterness  almost  of 
despair,  and  which  have  more  truth  than  poetry  in  them. 


132  LIFE   OF   MONTGOMERY. 

There  are  some  subjects  on  which  my  mind  is  continually 
rolling,  that  forbid  me  ever  to  hope  for  peace  on  earth, 
because  I  am  tempted  in  my  gloomy  fits  to  think  that  I 
can  never  find  rest  for  my  soul  even  in  the  consolations 
of  the  gospel,  for  I  can  never  forget  its  threatenings  :  even 
on  Mount  Calvary  I  hear  the  thunders  of  Sinai.  But  I 
will  not  wound  your  heart  on  this  tremendous  theme.  By 
the  by,  have  you  seen  the  Critical  Review  of  August  ? 
It  praises  my  little  volume  most  unmercifully ;  but  it  has 
found  out  that  I  am  a  Jacobin  in  politics,  and  a  fanatic  in 
religion.  As  for  the  first  accusation,  I  know  how  to  de- 
spise it ;  and  for  the  second,  the  reproach  of  the  Cross, 
would  to  God  that  I  were  worthy  of  it !  —  I  am  glad  you 
think  highly  of  '  Home.'  You  are  right  respecting  the 
disposition  to  depreciate  the  merits  of  living  poets.  I 
don't  choose  to  refer  to  my  volume  here,  but  for  that  very 
reason,  ought  not  the  Eclectic  Revieiv  to  set  an  example 
of  independent  judgment,  and  boldly  venture  to  praise 
living  merit,  and  to  lead  public  opinion,  not  to  sneak  after 
it,  as  most  of  our  reviewers  do ;  who  wait  to  hear  what 
the  world  has  to  say  about  any  new  author,  in  whom  they 
suspect  there  may  be  merit,  though  they  dare  not  declare 
it,  at  the  peril  of  all  their  critical  reputation,  till  every- 
body else  has  acknowledged  it.  My  observations  on 
c  Home'  were  written  without  seeing  a  remark  of  any- 
body else's  upon  it,  and  without  being  acquainted  with  a 
human  being  but  myself  who  had  read  it.  This,  my  dear 
sir,  you  may  rely  upon,  that  I  shall  always  write  my  own 
judgment,  whether  it  be  worth  your  adoption  or  no  ;  but 
I  shall  be  always  subject  to  your  curtailments,  nay  even 
your  utter  rejection,  when  you  totally  disapprove,  so  long 
as  I  can  have  confidence  in  the  unbiassed  independence  of 
your  own  judgment ;  for  I  never  will  nor  can  submit  to 


SCOTT   AND    SOUTHEY.  133 

write  to  the  prejudices  or  the  private  interests  of  any- 
party  whatever.  Your  kind  information  respecting  the 
success  of  my  critique  on  Dermody  gives  me  a  little 
encouragement ;  but  pray  hide  my  name  in  the  most  secret 
part  of  your  breast,  where  you  conceal  your  best  deeds 
from  every  human  eye.  I  have  scribbled  this  as  hastily 
as  possible,  to  put  you  in  and  out  of  pain  respecting 
Wool's  AVarton." 

Montgomery  has  just  received  from  London  the  "  Lay 
of  the  Last  Minstrel,"  and  "  Marmion." 

"  Walter  Scott  is  an  admirable  writer,"  he  says,  "  is  a 
poet  sui  generis;  but,  whenever  he  steps  on  modern 
ground,  he  is  only  one  of  the  weakest  of  us  ;  in  his  magic 
circle  he  is  inimitable  —  out  of  it,  a  gentleman  who  writes 
with  ease." 

Scott,  at  tins  time,  was  connected  with  the  Edinburgh 
Review,  and  made  generous  overtures  to  enlist  Southey 
in  its  service.  Southey  declined.  "The  objections  which 
weigh  with  me  against  bearing  any  part  in  this  journal  are 
these,"  he  replies  ;  "  I  have  scarcely  an  opinion  in  common 
with  it  upon  any  subject.  My  feelings  are  still  less  in 
unison  with  Jeffrey  than  my  opinions.  On  subjects  of 
moral  and  political  importance,  no  man  is  more  apt  to 
speak  in  the  very  gall  of  bitterness  than  I  am,  and  this 
habit  is  likely  to  go  with  me  to  the  grave  ;  but  that  sort 
of  bitterness  in  which  he  indulges,  which  tends  directly  to 
wound  a  man  in  his  feelings,  and  injure  him  in  his  fame 
and  fortune  (Montgomery  is  a  case  in  point)  appears  to  me 
utterly  inexcusable.  The  emolument  to  be  derived  from 
writing  at  ten  guineas  a  sheet,  Scotch  measure,  instead  of 
seven  pounds,  annual,  would  be  considerable  ;  the  pecu- 
niary advantage,  resulting  from  the  different  manner  in 
which  my  future  works  would  be  handled,  still  more  so. 
12 


134  LIFE   OF   MONTGOMERY. 

But  my  moral  feelings  must  not  be  compromised.  To 
Jeffrey,  as  an  individual,  I  shall  ever  be  ready  to  show 
every  kind  of  individual  courtesy ;  but  of  Judge  Jeffrey 
of  the  Edinburgh  Review  I  must  ever  think  and  speak  as 
of  a  bad  politician,  a  worse  moralist,  and  a  critic,  in  matters 
of  taste,  equally  incompetent  and  unjust." 

Ebenezer  Elliott,  just  shaking  his  shaggy  locks,  and 
kindling  at  "  man's  inhumanity  to  man,"  writes  to  the  Bard 
of  Keswick  for  counsel  how  to  bring  his  "  first  fruits"  be- 
fore the  public.  We  hope  his  reply  will  not  be  considered 
an  interloper  in  our  pages.  It  may  serve  to  answer 
similar  questions  not  unfrequently  put  in  our  time.  "A 
recommendation  to  the  booksellers  to  look  at  a  manu- 
script is  of  no  use  whatever,"  writes  Southey  to  the  young 
Corn-law  Rhymer.  "  In  the  way  of  business  they  glance 
at  everything  which  is  offered  them,  and  no  persons  know 
better  what  is  likely  to  answer  their  purpose.  Poetry 
is  the  worst  article  in  the  market :  out  of  fifty  volumes, 
which  may  be  published  in  the  course  of  a  year,  not  five 
pay  the  expense  of  publication  ;  and  this  is  a  piece  of 
knowledge  which  authors  in  general  purchase  dearly,  for, 
in  most  cases,  these  volumes  are  printed  at  their  own  risk. 

"  From  the  specimen  of  your  productions  now  in  my 
writing-desk,  I  have  no  doubt  you  possess  the  feeling  of  a 
poet,  and  may  distinguish  yourself;  but  I  am  sure  prema- 
ture publication  would  eventually  discourage  you.  You 
have  an  example  in  Kirke  "White  ;  his  '  Clifton  Green'  sold 
only  to  the  extent  of  the  subscriptions  he  obtained  for  it ; 
and  the  treatment  which  it  experienced  drove  him,  by  his 
own  account,  almost  to  madness.  My  advice  to  you  is,  to 
go  on  improving  yourself,  without  hazarding  anything; 
you  cannot  practice  without  improvement.  Feel  your 
way  before  the  public,  as  Montgomery  did.     He  sent  his 


SOUTHEY'S   ADVICE   TO    ELLIOTT  135 

verses  to  the  newspapers,  and,  when  they  were  copied 
from  one  to  another,  it  was  a  sure  sign  they  had  suc- 
ceeded. He  then  communicated  them,  as  they  were 
copied  from  the  papers,  to  the  Poetical  Register ;  the 
Reviews  selected  them  for  praise ;  and  thus,  when  he 
published  them  in  a  collected  form,  he  did  nothing  more 
than  claim,  in  his  own  character,  the  praise  which  had 
been  bestowed  upon  him  under  a  fictitious  name.  Try  the 
newspapers ;  send  what  you  think  one  of  your  best  short 
poems  to  the  Courier  or  Globe.  If  it  is  inserted,  send 
others,  with  any  imaginary  signature.  If  they  please 
nobody,  and  nobody  notices  them  with  praise,  nobody  will 
with  censure,  and  you  will  escape  all  criticism.  If,  on  the 
contrary,  they  attract  attention,  the  editor  will  be  glad  to 
pay  you  for  more  — and  they  still  remain  your  property, 
to  be  collected  and  reprinted  in  whatever  manner  you  may 
think  best  hereafter." 


CHAPTER   IX. 

THE    CHIMNEY-SWEEPS  —  LOTTERIES  —  VISIT  TO   LONDON  —  SLAVE-TRADE 

—  "  THE    WEST    INDIES" "  THE  WORLD    EEFORE  THE  FLOOD"  —  VISIT 

FROM  HIS  BROTHER  ROBERT  —  HART'S-HEAD  —  THE  POET'S  HOME  — 
PARIvEN'S  MATRIMONIAL  ADVICE  —  CRITICISMS  —  LETTERS  FROM  SOU- 
TIIEY  AND  ROSCOE. 

If  the  author  and  the  editor  had  his  trials,  they  are 
tempered  and  more  easily  borne  by  seeking  out  and  sympa- 
thizing: with  those  who  carried  heavier  burdens  than  his 
own. 

The  sufferings  of  a  species  of  child  labor,  —  chimney- 
sweeping, —  hardly  known  to  the  children  of  the  present 
day,  excej^t  perhaps  through  a  stray  old  copy  of  "  London 
Cries,"  are  enlisting  the  humane  exertions  of  Montgomery 
and  Mr.  Roberts. 

London  was  already  bestirring  herself  against  the  inhu- 
manities of  this  villainous  trade,  "  which,"  says  one,  "  can- 
not be  taught  without  cruelty,  learnt  without  suffering,  or 
practised  without  peril  to  the  lives  and  limbs  of  the  number- 
less poor  children  engaged  in  it." 

In  the  summer  of  1807,  an  association  was  formed  in 
Sheffield  for  bettering  their  condition,  and  for  devising 
more  suitable  machines  for  chimney-cleaning,  than  the 
"  bones  and  muscles  of  infants." 

An  exponent  of  this  interest  appeared  in  the  shape  of  a 


LOTTERIES.  137 

dinner  given  on  Easter  Monday  to  these  children,  which, 
annually  repeated,  served  to  keep  alive  in  the  public  mind 
the  sympathy  already  awakened  in  their  behalf. 

It  was  a  favorite  anniversary  of  the  poet,  who  never  failed 
to  aid  in  furnishing  the  table  from  his  pockets,  and,  if  possi- 
ble, with  his  presence  ;  while  the  Iris  perseveringly  did  its 
part  to  bring  the  odium  of  public  sentiment  against  this 
apprenticeship,  with  reference  to  its  entire  extinction  by  an 
act  of  Parliament. 

Another  craft,  also,  began  to  arrest  the  serious  attention 
of  Montgomery,  whose  gainfulness  to  himself  does  not  seem 
to  have  closed  his  eyes  to  its  moral  vitiations. 

On  establishing  the  Iris,  in  1794,  at  the  old  stand  of  the 
Register,  the  young  editor  became  the  natural  inheritor  of 
its  time-honored  customs.  One  of  these  was  the  sale  of 
lottery  tickets;  his  sheet,  of  course,  in  common  with  all 
other  papers  of  the  realm,  inserting  lottery  advertisements. 

This  sale  was  continued  at  the  Hart's-head  for  several 
years;  and  a  £20,000  prize  having  once  been  drawn 
through  this  office,  it  acquired  the  unenviable  notoriety  of 
"  the  lucky  office,"  which  brought  an  extraordinary  patron- 
age to  its  doors. 

"  Familiarity  with  some  kinds  of  sin  deadens  the  con- 
sciousness of  it ;  but  this  was  not  my  case  in  reference  to 
the  state  lottery,"  says  the  clear-sighted  editor ;  "  it  was 
familiarity  with  it  which  convinced  me  that  I  was  dealing 
in  deceptive  wares.  I  was  occasionally  surprised  at  the 
different  kinds  of  money  brought  to  me  by  persons  of  the 
humbler  class  —  hoarded  guineas,  old  crowns,  half-crowns, 
and  fine  impressions  of  smaller  silver  coins,  at  a  time  when 
bank-paper,  Spanish  dollars,  and  tokens  of  inferior  standard, 
issued  by  private  individuals  and  companies,  formed  a  kind 
of  mob-currency  throughout  the  realm.  These  were  ven- 
12* 


138  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

tured  t  for  the  sake  of  luck,'  in  many  instances  by  poor 
women,  who  had  inherited  them  from  their  parents,  re- 
ceived them  as  birth  or  wedding-day  gifts,  saved  them  for 
their  children's  thrift-pots,  or  laid  them  up  against  a  rainy 
day  or  sickness.  With  these  they  came  to  buy  hope^ 
and  I  sold  them  disappointment  !  It  was  this  thought, 
passing  through  my  mind  like  a  flash  of  lightning,  and 
leaving  an  indelible  impression  there,  which  decided  a  long- 
meditated,  but  often  procrastinated  purpose ;  and  I  said 
to  myself  at  length,  c  I  will  give  up  this  traffic  of  delu- 
sion.' I  did  so,  and  from  that  moment  never  sold  another 
share." 

In  1809,  Montgomery  paid  a  visit  to  London,  where  for 
the  first  time,  after  a  correspondence  of  two  years,  he  met 
Parken.  Lucy  Aikin  and  her  father  invited  him  to  the 
hospitalities  of  Stoke  Newington,  and  Mrs.  Barbauld, 
dwelling  on  the  same  green,  came  to  bid  him  welcome. 

At  Woolwich,  eight  miles  east  of  London,  down  the 
Thames,  his  younger  brother  Robert  lived,  a  flourishing 
grocer,  with  wife  and  children.  Here,  also,  Dr.  Olinthus 
Gregory  resided,  the  intimate  friend  of  Robert  Hall,  best 
known  in  this  country  through  his  "  Evidences  of  Christi- 
anity." Montgomery  was  invited  to  his  house,  and  a  cor- 
dial regard,  with  an  occasional  correspondence,  seems  to 
have  sprung  up  between  them. 

To  Merton,  a  village  in  Surrey,  seven  miles  south-west  of 
the  metropolis,  he  accompanied  Parken,  on  a  visit  to  Basil 
Montague,  whose  wife  was  an  early  friend.  Here,  in  a 
pleasant  gathering  of  congenial  spirits,  he  met  the  famous 
Dr.  Parr,  some  of  whose  habits  one  had  need  be  very 
much  his  friend,  indeed,  to  pardon  and  to  bear  with : — smok- 
ing, for  instance,  in  the  drawing-room ;  for  no  sooner  was 
he   seated  in  the   elegant   apartment   than  his  pipe   was 


LETTER    FROM    COLERIDGE  139 

brought,  and  fair  hands  were  in  requisition  with  tobacco 
and  fire.  As  the  smoke  curled  around  the  canonicals  of  the 
Doctor,  "  and  is  Dr.  Parr,"  pertinently  mused  Montgomery 
to  himself,  "  really  so  great  a  man,  that  it  is  immaterial 
whoever  else  be  annoyed,  so  that  his  comfort  is  secured  ? 
Or  is  he  so  little  a  man,  that  he  cannot,  even  under  such 
circumstances  as  these,  forego  the  usual  indulgence  of  his 
fondness  for  smoking  ?" 

Coleridge,  now  residing  at  Grasmere,  was  about  issuing 
the  "  Friend,"  the  first  number  of  which  appeared  in  June, 
1809,  and  he  thus  bespeaks  the  interest  of  Montgomery :  — 

"Dear  Sir, 

"  In  desiring  a  small  packet  of  these  prospectuses  to 
be  sent  to  you  from  Leeds,  I  have  presumed  less  on  myself 
than  on  our  common  friend,  Mrs.  Montague ;  but,  believe 
me,  by  more  than  by  either  I  have  been  encouraged  by  my 
love  and  admiration  of  your  works,  and  my  unfeigned 
affectionate  esteem  of  what  I  have  been  so  often  and  so 
eloquently  told  by  Mrs.  M.  of  your  life  and  character.  Con- 
scious how  very  glad  I  should  be  to  serve  you  in  anything, 
I  apply  with  less  discomfort  to  you  in  behalf  of  my  own 
concerns.  What  I  wish  is  simply  to  have  the  prospectuses 
placed  and  disposed  among  such  places  and  |>ersons  as  may 
bring  the  work  to  the  notice  of  those  whose  moral  and  in- 
tellectual habits  may  render  them  desirous  to  become  sub- 
scribers. I  know  your  avocations,  and  dare  not  therefore 
ask  you  for  an  occasional  contribution.  I  have  received 
promises  of  support  from  some  respectable  writers,  and,  for 
my  own  part,  am  prepared  to  play  off  my  whole  power  of 
acquirements,  such  as  they  are,  in  this  work,  as  from  the 
main  pipe  of  the  fountain. 

"  If  choice  or  chance  should  lead  you  this  way,  you  will 


140  LIFE   OF   MONTGOMERY. 

find  both  here  and  at  Greta  Hall,  Keswick,  house-room  and 
heart-room ;  for  I  can  add  Robert  Southey's  and  William 
Wordsworth's  names  to  my  own,  when  I  declare  myself 
with  affectionate  respect, 

"  Dear  sir,  yours  sincerely, 

"  S.  T.  Coleridge." 

Another  poem  is  already  on  the  stocks,  on  a  subject  hav- 
ing the  hearty  co-operation  of  his  principles  and  affections. 
Montgomery  was  a  thorough  abolitionist  —  a  word  less 
startling  to  British  ears  than  to  ours,  perhaps. 

Referring  to  the  rejection  of  a  "  Bill  for  the  Gradual  Abo- 
lition of  Negro  Slavery"  by  the  House  of  Commons,  a  few 
years  before,  the  Iris  thus  unmistakably  shows  its  colors :  — 

"There  is  a  fashion  in  feeling.  This  infamous  traffic  in 
the  unmarketable  commodity  of  God's  creatures  —  for  the 
Almighty  never  alienated  a  tittle  of  his  right  in  a  single 
human  being,  and  who  shall  dare  to  dispossess  him  of  it  ?  — 
we  say  this  infamous  traffic,  which  once  excited  almost  uni- 
versal and  unqualified  abhorrence  in  this  country,  seems 
now  to  have  softened  into  a  common-place  subject,  which 
we  can  contemplate  wdth  as  much  composure  as  the  diviners 
of  old  could  pore  over  the  palpitating  entrails  of  animals 
ripped  open  to  discover  the  secrets  of  futurity.  The 
plagues  of  Egypt  wTere  the  first  signal  and  exemplary 
punishment  inflicted  by  the  violated  majesty  of  heaven  on 
slave-traders  in  the  infancy  of  the  world.  The  plagues  of 
St.  Domingo  are  only  the  beginning  of  sorrows  in  the  West 
Indies  —  that  grave  of  Europe  and  Africa!  —  where  slaves 
and  their  tyrants  indiscriminately,  rapidly,  and  prematurely 
descend  to  the  dust ;  where  the  snow  of  age  is  almost  as 
rarely  seen  on  the  head  of  man  as  the  snow  of  whiter  on  the 
tops  of  the  mountains." 


THE    SLAVE-TRADE.  141 

"  We  strongly  recommend,"  he  said,  in  the  Iris  of  Sep- 
tember, 1805,  "the  perusal  of  an  article  on  our  last  page 
on  the  slave-trade.  The  atrocities  there  recorded  are  not 
the  ghosts  of  antiquated  murders  that  have  mouldered  out 
of  memory.  This  blood  that  cries  for  vengeance  has  not 
lost  its  voice,  —  it  has  not  lost  its  warmth !  It  boils  round 
the  heart,  it  burns  through  the  veins,  while  the  reader 
alternately  trembles  with  anger  and  melts  with  compassion 
at  the  crimes  and  the  woes  of  his  fellow-creatures.  Fel- 
low-creatures !  Are  slaves  and  slave-dealers  our  fellow- 
creatures  ?  To  what  wickedness,  to  what  misery  are  we 
akin  !  No  ;  —  the  sufferer  is  only  our  brother  ;  his  lordly 
oppressor  denies  consanguinity  with  the  slave ;  be  it  so,  for 
thereby  he  bastardizes  himself;  the  negro  is  assuredly 
related  to  all  the  rest  of  the  human  race." 

The  great  conflict  in  England  between  the  advocates  of 
the  slave-trade  and  the  demands  of  Christian  civilization 
is  too  well  known  to  need  recapitulation  here.  Headed 
by  Wilberforce,  the  anti-slavery  men  of  that  day  fought 
valiantly.  Apathy,  discouragement,  defeat,  desertion, 
never  damped  them ;  often  routed,  they  as  often  renewed 
the  charge.  The  cause  indeed  contained  within  itself  the 
very  elements  of  a  conquering  strength,  —  humanity  and 
justice,  the  first  principles  of  gospel  legislation,  and  the 
Christian  growth — 'and  it  must  prevail.  And  no  array 
of  names,  no  perverted  use  of  Scripture,  no  affluence  of 
resources,  no  constitutional  entrenchments,  no  timid  alarm- 
cries,  can  long  save  slavery  or  the  slave-trade  in  any  coun- 
try from  its  final  doom.  The  march  of  Christian  civiliza- 
tion is  on  its  track,  to  displace  its  rude  labors  and  brute 
forces,  by  the  discerning  industry  and  moral  sinew  of  free- 
born  men  and  women. 

British  pluck  did  prevail,  and  on  the  25th  of  March, 


142  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMEPtY. 

1807,  the  royal  assent  was  given  to  an  act  passed  by  Par- 
liament for  the  abolishing  of  British  trading  in  human 
beings. 

"The  bill  has  passed  and  become  a  law,"  is  the  ex- 
ultant cry  of  the  7m.  "  Thus  hath  the  glorious  offspring 
of  humanity,  which  for  seventeen  years  has  been  passing 
through  a  '  burning  fiery  furnace,'  heated  into  sevenfold 
fury  by  the  worshippers  of  the  '  golden  image'  set  up  by 
a  greater  than  Nebuchadnezzar  —  by  *  Mammon'  in  the 
West  Indies  ;  —  thus,  we  say,  has  this  persecuted  child  of 
benevolence  come  out  perfect  and  pure  from  the  fire  ;  for 
the  angel  of  mercy,  who  was  seen  walking  with  it  in  the 
flames,  prevented  them  from  kindling  upon  it ;  and  in 
heaven's  own  appointed  time,  he  has  brought  it  forth 
unconsumed  and  uninjured,  untainted  and  untouched." 

Accordingly  he  was  prepared  to  give  a  cordial  response 
to  proposals  soon  after  made  to  him.  "  Received  a  letter," 
he  says,  "  from  Mr.  Bowyer,  of  Pall-Mall  (to  whom  I  was 
an  entire  stranger),  announcing  that  he  had  projected  a 
splended  memorial  of  the  recent  triumph  of  justice  and 
humanity,  in  the  abolition  of  the  slave-trade  by  an  act  of 
the  British  legislature,  in  a  series  of  pictures,  represent- 
ing the  past  sufferings  and  the  anticipated  blessings  of  the 
long-wronged  and  late-righted  Africans,  both  in  their  own 
land  and  in  the  West  Indies.  The  engravings  from  these 
designs  were  to  be  accompanied  by  a  poem  illustrative  of 
the  subject.  This  he  very  courteously  requested  me  to 
contribute.  Soon  elated,  as  soon  depressed,  I  eagerly,  yet 
tremblingly,  undertook  the  commission ;  for  I  could  not 
help  doubting  the  wisdom  of  Mr.  Bowyer's  choice  of  a  poet 
after  the  judgment  which  had  been  passed  upon  my  recent 
performances  by  the  critical  infallibilities  of  my  own  coun- 
try."    The  subject,  however,  his  own  soul  was  penetrated 


VISIT    TO    LONDON.  143 

with,  and  immediately  lie  took  up  his  pen.  The  task  was 
soon  completed.  "  Concerning  my  slave-trade  poem,"  we 
find  him  writing  to  Aston,  "  I  have  only  to  tell  you,  that 
I  heard  a  few  days  ago  from  Bowyer,  who  complains  bit- 
terly of  ungrateful  and  mercenary  engravers,  who  have 
both  his  j)lates  and  him  in  their  hands,  and  he  can  neither 
extricate  the  one  nor  the  other :  so  that  his  work  may  be 
three  months  —  or,  if  you  like  a  round  number  better,  six 
months  —  before  it  makes  its  appearance.  This  is  very 
distressing  for  a  poet,  impatient  to  be  born  in  a  new  shape ; 
for  if  a  poet  lives  in  his  works  when  he  is  dead,  he  lives 
much  more  in  them  while  he  is  alive :  in  fact,  he  under- 
goes a  regular  metempsychosis  from  one  form  to  another, 
through  every  piece  that  he  writes  ;  the  last  being  always 
the  best  in  his  esteem,  as  each  body  which  the  soul  in- 
habits in  the  course  of  transmigration,  whether  it  be  an 
elephant  or  an  ass,  is  in  turn  the  dearest.  .  .  .  Of  my 
visit  to  London  I  have  talked  and  written  so  much  that  I 
am  quite  weary  of  it ;  and  if  I  were  to  attempt  to  enter- 
tain you  with  any  account  of  it,  I  should  be  too  dull  to  be 
endured.  I  saw  Dr.  Aikin,  Mrs.  Barbauld,  Robert  Bloom- 
field,  and  ought  to  have  seen  Thomas  Campbell,  but  illness 
prevented  him  from  meeting  me  according  to  the  invitation 
of  a  common  friend,  and  he  sent  an  apology  as  flattering, 
but  not  half  so  welcome,  as  his  company  would  have  been. 
I  was  introduced  to  so  many  other  great  and  middling, 
and  good  and  better  sort  of  men,  that  I  cannot  now  recol- 
lect half  of  those  I  saw,  and  of  those  that  saw  me,  not  the 
thousandth  part  —  for  in  London  one  seems  to  live  in  the 
mouth  of  a  bee-hive,  where  those  that  are  crowding  in  and 
those  that  are  pressing  out  pass  over  or  under  one  another, 
on  this  side  or  that,  just  as  there  may  be  room  or  oppor- 
tunity.    .     .     .     This  is  London." 


144  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

The  letters  of  a  new  correspondent  we  find  now  on  his 
table,  William  Roscoe,  of  Liverpool.  One  from  him,  at 
this  date,  so  fully  answers  our  own  notions  of  a  letter,  that 
we  give  a  paragraph  of  it  for  the  benefit  of  our  friends : — 

"  There  is  a  stupid  old  rule,  that  a  man  should  not  talk 
about  himself;  but  I  should  be  glad  to  know  on  what 
subject  he  can  talk  of  which  he  ought  to  know  so  much  ; 
and  I  am  sure  that,  whatever  may  be  the  case  when  he 
makes  his  appearance  before  the  public,  yet  in  the  inter- 
course of  private  friendship  the  more  he  talks  about  him- 
self the  better.  On  this  account,  I  always  prefer  those 
letters  of  a  friend  which  contain  neither  articles  of  intel- 
ligence nor  abstract  dissertations.  The  head  speaketh  to 
the  head,  and  the  heart  to  the  heart ;  and  I  think  it  a  sin 
to  convert  a  letter  into  either  a  gazette  or  a  sermon. 
Allow  me,  therefore,  to  say,  that  in  you  I  have  met  with  a 
correspondent  according  to  my  own  mind,  who  writes  as 
he  thinks,  and  forgets,  for  a  moment,  that  there  are  other 
persons  in  the  world  besides  his  friend  and  himself.  If, 
whenever  you  find  yourself  disposed  towards  it,  you  will 
take  up  your  pen,  and  give  your  thoughts  freely  as  they 
rise,  you  may  rest  assured  that  I  shall  not  only  receive 
them  with  real  pleasure,  but  endeavor  to  make  you  the 
best  return  in  my  power." 

"YVe  take  an  extract  from  Montgomery's  reply,  frank  and 
free  as  the  poet  could  be :  — 

"  When  I  wrote  last  I  was  so  tired  out  with  Mr.  Bow- 
yer's  procrastination  in  bringing  forward  his  pompous 
volume  on  the  Abolition  of  the  Slave-Trade,  that  I  had 
determined  to  put  off  the  small  edition  of  my  poems  on 
that  subject  sine  die;  and,  instead  of  bringing  it  out  as  a 
rider  to  Mr.  Bowyer's  book,  I  meant  to  publish  the  piece 


LETTER    TO    RO  SCO E.  145 

which  I  mentioned   in  my  Inst  as  having  occupied,  and 
indeed  almost  exhausted,  my  mind,  during  the  latter  half 
of  last  year.      The  instant  I  have  finished  a  new  poem  I 
wish  all  the  world  to  see  it ;  in  the  joy  of  its  birth  I  forget 
all  the  anguish  it  cost  me,  and  only  anticipate  the  renown 
it  shall  bring  me  for  ages  to  come !     When  I  wrote  last 
I  was  in  my  first  love  with  this  fairest  offspring  of  my 
imagination,  and  which  had  given  more  pain  than  any  of 
its  elder  brethren.      I   therefore   wrote  too    passionately 
concerning  it,  and  have  probably  excited  a  hope  in  your 
breast  of  merit   which  you  can  never  meet  with  in  any 
work  of  mine.     Be  this  as  it  may,  my  own  transports  soon 
subsided,   and  yielded  to   fears,  of  such   foreboding   and 
appalling  import,  that  my  heart  sunk   under   them;   and 
though  I  had  arranged   with   Messrs.  Longman   for   the 
early  appearance  of  this  paragon  of  poetry,   I  retreated, 
even  after  the  manuscript  was  sent  to  London.     I  have 
breathed  more  freely  ever  since,  though  the  recollection 
how  nearly  my  rashness  had  brought  my  reputation  to  a 
stake  at  which  it  would  have  inevitably  been   burnt   to 
ashes,  and  scattered  on   the   winds,  makes   me    shudder, 
even  in  the  conscious  security  of  being  still  in  manuscript, 
out  of  which  I  shall  certainly  not  creep  for  ten  or  twelve 
months  to  come.     Therefore,  with  all  its  sins  upon  its  head 
(which  my  present  terrors  may,  after  all,  magnify  as  much 
beyond   the   truth,    as    my   former   fondness   exalted    its 
merits),   you  shall  see  it.      I  therefore  write  now  to  re- 
quest you  to  inform  me,  at  your  own  convenience,  how  I 
may  send  the  copy  to  you  to  secure  its  safe  delivery.     The 
MS.  will  be  in  the  hands  either  of  my  bookseller,  or  some 
friend  in  London,  till  the  latter  end  of  March.     As  I  have 
neither  room  nor  time  at  present  to  say  more  concerning 
it,  I  shall  defer  any  hints  that  may  be  necessary  to  preju- 
13 


146  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

dice  you  in  its  favor,  before  you  begin  the  perusal  of  tliis 
wild  offspring  of  my  muse.  I  won't  attempt  to  bias  your 
judgment,  but  I  will  try  to  bribe  your  heart  before  you 
take  the  critic's  chair.  With  respectful  remembrance  to 
all  your  family, 

"  I  am  truly,  your  obliged  friend, 

"  J.  Montgomery. 
"  William  Roscoe,  Esq.,  Allerton  Hall,  near  Liverpool." 

Bowyer's  work  was  at  last  issued.  Its  long  delay,  the 
failure  of  many  promised  contributions,  and  its  high  price, 
operated  unfavorably  on  the  sale,  which  was  comparatively 
limited. 

Montgomery's  portion  of  it  was  afterwards  issued,  with 
a  few  shorter  poems,  in  a  small  volume,  in  the  spring  of 
1810;  and  in  this  form  The  West  Indies  became  exten- 
sively read. 

Embodying,  as  it  did,  the  national  sympathies  of  a  people 
in  its  unanimous  verdict  against  a  national  sin,  it  could 
hardly  fail  of  being  eloquent.  The  very  subject  disarmed 
criticism,  and  won  for  it  a  place  in  every  English  home. 

The  Negro  deeming 

"  his  own  land  of  every  land  the  pride, 


Beloved  of  heaven  o'er  all  the  world  beside ; 
His  home  the  spot  of  earth  supremely  blest, 
A  dearer,  sweeter  spot  than  all  the  rest;" 


Africa 


"  Basking  in  all  the  splendors  of  a  solar  zone  ;" 

the  Trade,  which  had  depopulated  her,  and 

"  o'er  the  Atlantic  waves 

For  guilty  ages  rolled  the  tide  of  slaves : 
A  tide  that  knew  no  fall,  no  turn,  no  rest, 
Constant  as  day  and  night  from  east  to  west ; 


"THE    WEST    INDIES."  147 

Still  widening,  deepening,  swelling  in  its  course 
With  boundless  ruin  and  resistless  force ;" 

the  Champions  who  stood 

"In  this  wide  breach  of  violated  laws;" 

"  When  Pitt,  supreme  among  the  senate,  rose, 
The  Negro's  friend  among  the  Negro's  foes  ; 

"  When  Fox,  all  eloquent  for  freedom,  stood, 
With  speech  resistless  as  the  voice  of  blood ; 

"  With  Wilberforce,  the  minister  of  grace, 
The  new  Las  Casas  of  a  ruined  race;" 

Britannia,  confessing  the  nation's  claim,  and  turning  to  her 
dusky  sister, 

"  {  All  hail !'  exclaimed  the  empress  of  the  sea, 
'  Thy  chains  are  broken,  Africa,  be  free ;" 

all  form  a  vivid  panorama  of  some  of  the  foulest  and  noblest 
doings  in  the  chronicles  of  a  Christian  nation. 

"The  subject,  which  had  become  antiquated  by  frequent, 
minute,  and  disgusting  exposure,  afforded  no  opportunity 
to  awaken,  suspend,  and  delight  curiosity,  by  a  subtle  and 
surprising  development  of  plot,"  says  the  author,  in  a  brief 
preface ;  a  defect  which,  however  it  may  otherwise  be  ac- 
counted for  in  the  present  case,  existed  in  the  poet  himself, 
for  Montgomery  possessed  none  of  the  dramatic  force  of 
"sweet  surprises.,, 

"  That  trade  is  at  length  abolished.  May  its  memory  be 
immortal,  that  henceforth  it  may  be  known  only  by  its 
memory!"  are  his  closing  words — an  ejaculation  whose 
significance  has  not  altogether  passed  away. 


148  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

Another  poem,  just  completed,  he  sent  to  Mr.  Roscoe  for 
criticism.  On  its  return,  he  thus  delightfully  opens  his 
heart  to  his  critic :  — 

"Sheffield,  July  23,  1810. 
"  Dear  Sir, 

"  The  World  before  the  Flood  arrived  safely  this  morn- 
ing. Once  more  I  thank  you  for  your  kind  and  valuable 
strictures  upon  it,  of  which  I  hope  to  profit  some  time 
or  other,  but  when  I  know  not.  I  must  lie  fallow  a  little 
longer ;  this  last  crop  has  exhausted  me.  Besides,  I  am 
not  so  impatient  now  to  be  immortal  at  once  as  I  was  when 
I  was  at  school,  and  confidently  hoped  to  transcend  all  my 
poetical  forerunners  in  every  species  of  excellence.  I  will 
therefore  quietly  wait  a  little  longer  to  watch  the  progress 
of  my  West  Indies,  and  other  smaller  poems,  just  pub- 
lished, which  I  have  seen  for  the  first  time  in  their  diminu- 
tive form  to-day.  I  enclose  two  copies,  thinking,  from  your 
exceedingly  friendly  disposition  towards  my  provincial 
muse,  that  you  will  be  pleased  to  see  her  new  offspring  as 
early  as  possible.  After  all,  there  really  is  a  gratification 
(I  don't  care  whether  it  be  a  rational  one  or  no)  in  seeing 
anything  quite  new,  and  before  every  vulgar  eye  has  gazed 
on  it,  or,  which  is  more  likely  in  the  present  instance,  has 
overlooked  it.  Some  of  these  little  pieces  you  may  recol- 
lect having  read  in  the  Athenamm.  Others  have  never  ap- 
peared in  print,  and  have  all  their  dew  and  fragrancy  about 
them  now,  in  the  very  dawn  of  their  day, —  a  little  day 
perhaps ;  but  a  few  eyes  will  look  with  delight  upon  them, 
before  the  sun  withers,  or  the  wind  scatters,  or  the  hand  of 
oblivion  plucks  them,  and  casts  them  away  for  ever.  Yet 
who  would  rear  flowers  of  poesy  for  such  a  fate  ?  Thou- 
sands do  it,  but  does  one  intend  it  ?     I  could  not  write  at 


VISIT    FROM    HIS    BROTHER    ROBERT.        149 

all,  if  there  were  not  in  my  breast  a  wish,  so  earnest  and 
so  strong,  that  I  often  mistake  it  for  a  hope  after  immor- 
tality. This  dear,  delightful  self-delusion  soothes  me  under 
every  discouragement,  and  cheers  me  under  every  neglect! 
Yet  what  is  it  ?  I  know  not ;  and  if  I  did  know,  the  charm 
might  be  broken :  I  might  desire  it  no  longer.  Nothing 
within  our  reach  appears  so  precious  as  that  which  is  just 
beyond  our  reach,  but  which  we  may  yet  touch,  and  by 
touching  only  prove  that  we  cannot  grasp  it,  like  a  ball  sus- 
pended by  a  single  hair.  I  believe  I  understand  this  figure, 
probably  you  do  not ;  I  have  no  time  to  explain  it,  for 
which  I  am  glad,  lest  I  should  make  nonsense  of  it." 

A  visit  from  his  brother  Robert,  reviving  "  the  sweet 
sense  of  kindred  "  in  his  bosom,  seems  to  have  afforded  the 
poet  and  editor  a  pleasing  relaxation  from  the  tasks  of  the 
quill. 

"  Your  visit,"  he  writes  him,  on  his  return,  "  I  assure  you 
has  drawn  yet  closer  the  bonds  of  brotherly  kindness  that 
always  united  my  heart  to  yours ;  but  which,  from  the  long 
and  wide  separation  that  circumstances  beyond  our  power 
have  made  between  us,  has  not  been  so  renewed  and 
strengthened  from  time  to  time  as  it  would  have  been,  had 
we  lived  nearer  to  one  another.  But  the  farther  we  have 
been  removed,  I  have  found  the  dearer  we  were  when  we 
met ;  and  I  trust  that,  in  future,  if  wTe  are  spared  a  few 
years  longer,  we  shall  oftener  see  each  other's  face,  and  feel 
each  other's  love  expressed  in  those  sweet  words  and  deeds 
which  can  neither  be  written  nor  performed  at  a  distance, 
and  which  the  heart  acknowledges  with  secret  gratitude 
and  delight." 

Another  letter,  written  a  few  months  after,  reveals  the 

yearnings  of  a  Christian  brother's  heart :  — 
13* 


150  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

"Sheffield,  December  13,  1811. 
"  My  Dear  Robert, 

.  .  .  "Many,  many  times  have  I  lived  over  again  in 
my  thoughts  the  days  of  your  last  visit  to  Sheffield,  dining 
which  I  enjoyed  more  of  your  company  than  I  had  done  at 
any  period  during  the  last  twenty  years,  and,  of  conse- 
quence, I  had  more  opportunity  of  looking  into  your  heart, 
and  observing  its  most  secret  and  sacred  emotions;  not 
that  I  was  a  spy  upon  my  brother's  conduct,  or  laid  a  single 
snare  to  entrap  him  in  his  speech.  No ;  I  had  no  occasion 
to  employ  craft  or  stratagem  of  any  kind  to  discover  all 
that  I  wished  to  know,  and  all  that  I  had  a  right  to  know, 
of  your  feelings,  sentiments,  and  disposition.  Whatever  I 
found  in  you,  my  dear  Robert,  be  assured  that  I  loved  and 
respected  you  more,  the  more  I  became  acquainted  with 
you.  On  my  part,  I  can  conscientiously  declare  that  I  en- 
deavored to  appear  before  you  without  any  disguise,  either 
in  my  conduct  or  my  conversation ;  in  sincerity  and  truth  I 
wished  to  be  that,  and  that  only,  in  your  esteem,  which  my 
heart  testified  I  was  in  reality,  and  which,  I  trust,  I  shall 
ever  remain,  your   affectionate  brother,   and   your   friend 

indeed Do  write  soon,  and  let  me  know  fully  and 

truly  how  you  are ;  I  am  not  afraid  of  your  using  deceit 
towards  me  on  any  other  subject  but  this;  I  therefore 
charge  you,  as  you  love  me,  and  more  than  this,  as  you 
love  your  family,  that  you  always  tell  me  candidly  how  you 
are  affected  in  this  most  serious  concern  of  the  poor  transi- 
tory life  which  you  are  leading  in  this  vain  world  of  trial 
and  suffering,  and  danger  and  death.  Here,  too,  let  me 
entreat  you  to  '  remember  in  this  your  day  the  things  that 
belong  to  your  peace ; '  and  O  may  our  Saviour  never  have 
cause  to  weep  over  you  and  me,  as  he  once  did  over  Jeru- 
salem, and  say  that  'those  things'  which  we  rejected  while 


LETTER   TO    HIS    BROTHER   ROBERT.  151 

they  were  offered  to  us,  are  '  for  ever  hidden  from  our 
eyes ! '  The  feelings,  deep  and  awful,  which  this  reflection 
has  awakened,  naturally  lead  me  to  mention  my  visit  to 
Ocbrook,  about  the  middle  of  October.  I  met  Ignatius  and 
Agnes  at  Matlock,  where  they  had  been  a  short  time  for  the 
benefit  of  the  waters,  poor  Ignatius  being  very  weak,  as, 
indeed,  you  saw  when  you  called  on  him  on  your  return. 
He  looked  pale  and  thin,  but  in  other  respects  little  changed 
since  I  saw  him  six  years  before.  He  was  languid,  but 
there  was  a  meekness,  a  heavenly-mindedness  in  his  manner 
and  in  his  looks,  that  rendered  him  inexpressibly  interesting 
to  me.  Agnes,  whom  I  then  saw  for  the  first  time  since  we 
were  children  at  Fulneck,  appeared  much  healthier  and 
stronger  than  I  expected.  We  were  soon  brother  and 
sister,  you  may  be  sure,  and  I  was  charmed  with  her  in 
every  point  of  view  in  which  I  saw  her  at  Matlock  and  at 
Ocbrook,  as  an  affectionate  helpmate  to  our  dear  infirm  Ig- 
natius, an  excellent  nurse  both  to  him  and  John  James,  and 
a  most  worthy  and  accomplished  woman.  She  is,  in  my 
esteem,  a  guardian  angel,  sent  by  the  express  command  of 
heaven  to  minister  to  poor  Ignatius ;  and  I  will  add,  he  is 
worthy  of  her ;  a  kinder,  humbler,  nobler  heart  than  his 
surely  never  warmed  a  human  breast.  As  for  John  James, 
he  is  an  armful  of  roses,  and  his  very  first  smile  made  me 
love  him  from  my  soul,  but  he  did  not  make  me  forget 
Betsey,  or  Harriet  —  my  Betsey  and  my  Harriet,  I  ought 
to  say;  no,  he  only  reminded  me  more  and  more  of  them.  .  . 

"I  am,  very  truly,  your  affectionate  brother, 

"  J.  Montgomery. 
"Mr.  Robert  Montgomery,  Woolwich." 

Parken  also  visited  Sheffield.     The  duties  of  a  host  were 


152  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

most  heartily  and  royally  fulfilled,  nobody  can  doubt,  yet 
the  guest  ungratefully  suggests  an  improvement  in  the 
poet's  quarters. 

Let  us  look  in.     His  study  we  might  naturally  seek  first. 

"  In  this  room,"  says  Montgomery,  introducing  us  to  it, 
"  where  some  of  my  happiest  pieces  have  been  produced, 
those  I  mean  which  are  most  popular,  all  the  prospect  I 
have  is  a  confined  yard,  where  there  are  some  miserable 
old  walls  and  the  backs  of  houses,  which  present  to  the  eye 
neither  beauty  or  variety,  or  anything  to  inspire  a  single 
thought,  except  about  bricks,  the  corners  of  which  have 
been  chipped  off  by  violence,  or  fretted  away  by  the 
weather." 

But  should  not  a  poet's  surroundings  be  suggestive  of 
all  beautiful  thoughts?  "  No,"  he  answers;  "as  a  gen- 
eral rule,  whatever  of  poetry  is  to  be  derived  from  scenery, 
must  be  secured  before  we  sit  down  to  compose  —  the 
impressions  must  be  made  already,  and  the  mind  must  be 
abstracted  from  surrounding  objects.  It  will  not  do  to 
be  expatiating  abroad  in  observation,  when  we  should  be 
at  home  in  concentration  of  thought." 

Sisterly  affections  are  supplied  by  the  three  Miss  Gales, 
and  congenial  society  enough  these  must  have  been  to 
occupy  any  barren  gap  in  the  poet's  life.  But  Parken  is 
not  satisfied.  Bachelordom  finds  no  toleration  with  him. 
He  is  persuaded  that  Montgomery  needs  a  dearer  one,  and 
delicately,  but  urgently,  broaches  the  subject  soon  after 
his  return  to  London.  "  It  is,"  he  proceeds,  "  much  easier 
to  write  one's  feelings  than  to  speak  them ;  and  among  the 
few  subjects  on  which  I  could  be  happy  to  show  you  my 
whole  heart,  the  most  prominent  is  yourself.  One  of  the 
topics,  therefore,  in  which  I  am  most  interested  is,  you 
may  be  sure,  that  which  most  interests  you.     I  presumed, 


"THE   WORLD   BEFORE    THE    FLOOD."         153 

as  far  as  I  durst  in  your  presence,  but  not  quite  so  far  as 
to  express  fully  my  conviction  (derived  from  very  sufficient 
sources)  that  your  apprehensions  of  infelicity  are  totally 
unfounded ;  that  any  one  who  was  really  worthy  of  you, 
would  consider  it  only  too  much  happiness  to  be  united 
and  devoted  to  you  as  a  friend  and  a  nurse ;  and  that  such 
a  union  would  infallibly  relieve  the  greater  part  of  those 
very  infirmities,  both  mental  and  bodily,  which  appear  to 
you  such  formidable  impediments.  Be  advised,  my  dear 
friend  ;  do  not  procrastinate  :  I  still  hope  it  is  not  too  late, 
but  that  if  you  attempt  you  will  succeed ;  and  then  I  am 
confident  you  will  thank  me  as  long  as  you  live.  How 
I  should  rejoice  next  summer  to  see  a  third  added  to  our 
friendship,  and  that  third  —  a  female !" 

How  the  counsel  was  received  we  do  not  know ;  no 
change  disturbed  the  accustomed  quiet  of  Hartshead,  and 
anon  the  poet  courted  the  Muse.  The  World  before  the 
Flood  occupies  his  pen.  Its  Sunday  morning  origin  is 
thus  related :  "  During  the  delay  of  the  publication  of  The 
West  Indies,  and  while  in  quest  of  a  theme  for  a  lead- 
ing essay  to  form,  with  many  minor  pieces,  a  new  volume, 
he  happened  one  Sunday  morning,  before  starting  to  his 
usual  place  of  worship,  to  be  meditating  on  the  history  of 
Enoch  and  his  relation  to  the  antediluvians,  as  recorded 
in  the  fifth  chapter  of  the  book  of  Genesis,  which  he  was 
reading;  at  the  same  time  a  well-known  passage  in  the 
eleventh  book  of  '  Paradise  Lost,'  in  which  Milton  applies 
the  striking  imagery  connected  with  the  Scripture  account 
of  the  ascent  of  Elijah  in  a  chariot  of  fire  to  the  translation 
of  Enoch,  forcibly  occurred  to  his  recollection.  This  at 
once  determined  his  choice." 

In  a  few  months  the  plan  thus  suddenly  conceived  was 
diligently  wrought  into  a  poem  of  five  cantos.     A  copy 


154  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

was  sent  to  Parken,  with  a  request,  that  after  having  read 
it  himself,  he  would  give  it  to  Longman  for  immediate 
publication.  Parken  carefully  did  his  part,  and  so  much 
liked  it,  as,  Montgomery  tells  us,  "  to  think  it  worth 
mending,  and  capable  of  being  greatly  mended,  because 
the  author  had  not  done  justice  either  to  himself  or  the 
theme  in  so  contracted  a  compass.  Wherefore,  with  a 
courage  and  candor  not  often  hazarded  by  one  friend 
towards  another,  in  an  affair  of  peculiar  delicacy,  where 
the  most  jealous  of  personal  feelings  must  of  necessity  be 
wounded,  how  tenderly  soever  the  sensitive  operation  may 
be  performed,  he  addressed  a  brief  but  earnest  letter  to 
me,  imploring  permission  to  detain  the  manuscript  a  few 
days  longer,  before  he  consigned  it  to  the  booksellers  for 
the  press,  and  till  the  author  himself  had  given  farther  con- 
sideration to  the  subject,  with  the  view  of  bringing  out 
its  latent  capabilities  more  effectually  than  had  been  at- 
tenuated in  the  draft,  or  rather  in  the  sketch  which  had 
been  sent  to  him." 

The  frank  and  sensitive  poet  confesses  that  for  a  moment 
the  advice  ruffled  his  feelings,  and  it  took  a  five  miles' 
walk  to  smooth  them  down.  Air  and  exercise  helped  to 
good  digestion,  and  he  came  back,  "  determined  not  to  be 
outdone  in  magnanimity,  but  to  return  the  friendship  of 
his  friend  by  unreservedly  bowing  to  his  judgment,  and 
adopting  his  counsel." 

Wishing  to  bespeak  more  extended  criticism,  and  per- 
haps to  test  the  soundness  of  Parken's  criticism,  he  sub- 
mitted the  manuscript  to  four  other  literary  friends,  Dr. 
Aikin,  Dr.  Gregory,  Mr.  Roscoe,  and  Mr.  Rees,  a  partner 
of  Longman,  the  publisher.  The  result  was  a  careful 
revision  of  the  poem  in  reference  to  greater  unity  and 
copiousness. 


A    DEFENCE    OF    FICTION.  155 

Parken's  letter  on  the  use  of  fiction,  in  answer  to  the 
poet's  scruples  regarding  the  web  of  his  poem,  is  not  de- 
void of  interest :  — 

"Cloisters,  Temple,  Juno  15,  1811. 
"My  Very  Dear  Friend, 

"The  other  subject  of  which  I  was  to  have  written  you 
by  return  of  post  was  the  doubt  you  seem  to  entertain  of 
the  morality  of  fiction.  It  chagrined  and  alarmed  me  a 
good  deal,  to  think  of  your  mind  or  your  conscience  being 
perplexed  on  a  point  of  such  vital  importance  to  your 
present  pursuits.  A  friend  of  mine,  who  is  also  a  friend 
of  Southey's,  so  far  from  admitting  any  such  notion  as 
yours,  contends  that  poetry,  considered  as  fiction,  is  the 
finest  species  of  ethics  ;  and  goes  so  far  as  to  call  religion 
the  most  perfect  poetry,  because  it  has  all  the  glory  of 
fiction,  and  all  the  reality  of  fact.  He  insists  upon  it  that 
poetry,  like  the  other  fine  arts,  is  chiefly  beneficial,  because 
it  supplies  nobler  images,  and  a  higher  standard  of  excel- 
lence, to  the  imagination  than  nature  can  furnish  to  the 
senses  ;  and  elevates  man  to  the  loftiest  pitch  he  is  capable 
of  attaining,  by  pointing  him  to  that  which  is  beyond  his 
reach.  However  this  may  be,  I  am  sure  there  is  no  im- 
morality inherent  in  fictions,  as  such,  which  have  no  prac- 
tical tendency  contrary  to  fact.  I  hope  my  metaphysics 
and  morals  are  intelligible  to  you;  I  think  they  are  to 
myself.  In  your  poem  there  is  no  intention  to  deceive : 
there  is  no  probability  that  any  person  will  be  deceived ; 
and  if  the  whole  world  were  to  be  deceived,  not  a  single 
feeling  would  be  excited  or  a  single  action  performed 
which  would  not  be  sanctioned  by  enlarged  views  of  our 
nature,  or  which  would  be  in  the  smallest  degree  detri- 
mental to  the  happiness  of  a  single  individual.    If  I  wanted 


156  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

proofs,  I  would  only  cite  the  apologues  and  parables  of 
Scripture,  some  of  which,  if  not  all,  are  unquestionably 
fictitious.  The  use  of  fiction  in  literature  appears  to  me 
exactly  analogous  to  the  conception  of  quantities  in  math- 
ematics, or,  to  come  home  to  my  own  peculiar  and  favorite 
studies,  to  the  statement  of  imaginary  cases  for  the  deter- 
mination of  points  in  law.  Many  cases  may  be  imagined 
which  probably  never  did  occur  in  real  life,  but  which 
might  have  occurred,  may  occur,  and  some  time  or  other 
probably  will.  All  the  truth  involved  in  the  real  case  is 
equally  involved  in  the  imaginary  one  ;  and  surely  there 
is  nothing  very  immoral  or  pernicious  in  getting  instruc- 
tion before  an  event  actually  takes  place,  which  would  be 
sound  and  salutary  afterwards.  If  there  is  any  objection 
to  the  use  of  fiction  in  connection  with  facts  of  sacred 
history,  in  a  poetical  work,  it  must  rest  upon  the  extra- 
ordinary power  of  fascination  and  illusion  which  the 
highest  order  of  poetry  possesses.  The  popular  creed 
with  respect  to  the  fall  of  man,  the  war  of  the  angels,  and 
the  character  of  Satan,  is  probably  derived  at  least  as 
much  from  'Paradise  Lost,'  as  from  the  book  of  Genesis  or 
Revelation.  Happily  there  is  but  little  variance  between 
them,  and  as  to  what  there  is,  a  moment's  reflection 
detects  the  illusion,  and  the  Bible  is  always  at  hand  to 
dispel  it.  May  your  poem  do  as  much  harm  as  Milton's 
in  this  way,  and  as  much  good,  by  grafting  religious  facts 
and  principles  on  the  public  mind !  The  palm  shall  then 
be  enlivened  with  your  bays,  and  you  shall  cast  both  at 
the  feet  of  the  Redeemer,  shouting  Hosanna  ! 

"  I  am  most  affectionately  yours, 

"D.  Paeken." 

Four  cantos  of  the  revised  poem  having  been  sent  to 


LETTER  FROM  SOUTHEY.  157 

Parken,  he  read  them  to  a  circle  of  literary  friends,  one 
of  whom  soon  after  wrote  to  the  author,  that  Southey 
expressed  his  regret  at  learning  he  had  chosen  the  heroic 
couplet  —  the  least  adapted,  he  thought,  for  a  long  poem, 
and  especially  such  a  poem.  Blank  verse,  without  com- 
parison, wras  recommended. 

Montgomery  immediately  submitted  a  portion  of  the 
manuscript  to  Southey,  whose  heart-revealing  letter  in 
return  cannot  fail  of  interest. 

"Keswick,  May  6th,  1811. 

"  My  Dear  Montgomery, 

"  Your  Death  of  Adam  is  what  it  should  be  ;  and 
the  apparition  at  the  close  brings  with  it  all  the  comfort, 
and  light,  and  glory  that  is  wanted.  Eve's  departure  is 
admirably  conceived.  I  did  not  expect  it,  because  I  was 
chained  too  much  as  I  went  along  to  expect  anything ; 
but  the  event  follows  so  naturally,  that  it  produced  an 
effect  like  historical  truth.  I  should  never  have  objected 
to  the  couplet,  if  it  had  often  been  written  as  you  write  it 
— with  that  full  and  yet  unwearying  harmony,  well  varied, 
but  never  interrupted.  There  are  but  two  expressions  that 
struck  me  as  blemishes :  concerning  the  one,  you  will  agree 
with  me ;  about  the  other,  perhaps,  you  will  not.  The  first 
is  the  epithet  '  unreturning,'  in  the  last  line  of  the  first 
paragraph  :  the  other  is  '  this  congenial  side.'  The  direct 
reference  to  the  rib  is  perfectly  proper  ;  and  yet  I  wish  the 
word  '  breast'  had  been  used  instead  of '  side.' 

"No  man  who  looks  into  his  own  heart  when  he  is 
capable  of  understanding  it,  can  doubt  that  there  is  a  dis- 
ease in  human  nature,  for  which  the  grace  of  God  is  the 
only  remedy:  with  this  belief,  or  rather  with  this  sense,  and 
this  conviction,  there  can  be  no  presumption  in  saying  that 
14 


158  LIFE   OF   MONTGOMERY 

I  regard  the  first  chapter  of  Genesis  not  as  an  historical 
narration,  but  an  allegorical  veil  for  this  mystery  —  a  mys- 
tery that  has  been  unconsciously  acknowledged  among 
mankind,  because  it  has  been  universally  felt.  If  I  under- 
stood the  story  literally,  then  I  should  read  the  line  in  the 
feeling  with  which  you  have  written  it :  but  that  the  for- 
mation of  Eve  is  the  only  part  of  this  very  beautiful 
narrative  which  has  not  the  solemnity  of  the  rest,  is  ap- 
parent from  the  numberless  light  allusions  to  which  it  has 
given  rise,  from  men  who  had  no  irreverent  thought  or 
intention. 

"  I  have  passed  through  many  changes  of  belief,  as  is 
likely  to  be  the  case  with  every  man  of  ardent  mind  who 
is  not  early  gifted  with  humility.  Gibbon  shook  my  belief 
in  Christianity  when  I  was  a  school-boy  of  seventeen. 
When  I  went  to  college  it  was  in  the  height  of  the 
French  Revolution  —  and  I  drank  deeply  of  that  cup. 
I  had  a  friend  there  whose  name  you  have  seen  in  my 
poems  —  Edmund  Seward,  an  admirable  man  in  all  things, 
whose  only  fault  was  that  he  was  too  humble  ;  for  humble, 
even  to  a  fault,  he  was.  In  his  company  my  religious 
interests  were  strengthened.  But  to  those  who  have  any 
religious  feeling,  you  need  not  be  told  how  chilling  and 
withering  the  lip-service  of  a  university  must  be.  Sick 
of  the  college,  chapel,  and  church,  we  tried  the  meeting- 
house;  and  there  we  were  disgusted  too.  Seward  left 
college  meaning  to  take  orders ;  I,  who  had  the  same  des- 
tination, became  a  deist  after  he  left  us,  and  turned  my 
thoughts  to  the  profession  of  physic.  Godwin's  book 
fell  into  my  hands:  many  of  his  doctrines  appeared  as 
monstrous  to  me  then  as  they  do  now ;  but  I  became 
enamored  of  a  philosophical  millennium.  Coleridge  came 
from  Cambridge  to  visit  a  friend  at  Oxford  on  his  way  to 


SOUTHEY'S    RELIGIOUS    VIEWS.  159 

a  journey  in  Wales.  That  friend  was  my  bosom  com- 
panion :  Coleridge  was  brought  to  my  rooms  —  and  that 
meeting  fixed  the  future  fortunes  of  us  both. 

"  Coleridge  had  at  that  time  thought  little  of  politics  ;  in 
morals  he  was  as  loose  as  men  at  a  university  usually  are  : 
but  he  was  a  Unitarian.  My  morals  were  of  the  sternest 
stoicism:  the  same  feeling  which  made  me  a  poet  kept 
me  pure  —  before  I  had  used  Werther  and  Rousseau  for 
Epictetus.  Our  meeting  was  mutually  agreeable;  I  re- 
formed his  life,  and  he  disposed  me  toAvards  Christianity, 
by  showing  me  that  none  of  the  arguments  that  had  led 
me  to  renounce  it  were  applicable  against  the  Socinian 
scheme.  He  remained  three  or  four  weeks  at  Oxford,  and 
we  planned  a  Utopia  of  our  own,  to  be  founded  in  the 
wilds  of  America  upon  the  basis  of  common  property  — 
each  laboring  for  all  —  a  Pantisocracy  —  a  republic  of 
Reason  and  Virtue. 

"  For  this  dream  I  gave  up  every  other  prospect.  How 
painfully  and  slowly  I  was  awakened  from  it,  this  is  not 
the  time  to  say  ;  for  my  purpose  is  but  to  show  you  where 
I  have  been  upon  my  pilgrim's  progress,  and  how  far  I 
have  advanced  upon  the  way.  I  became  a  Socinian  from 
the  reasonableness  of  the  scheme  ;  and  still  more  so  be- 
cause I  was  shocked  by  the  consequences  of  irreligion,  such 
as  they  were  seen  in  my  daily  intercourse  with  sceptics, 
unbelievers,  and  atheists.  I  reasoned  on  it  till  I  learnt  and 
felt  how  vain  it  is  to  build  up  a  religion  wholly  upon  his- 
torical proofs.  I  learnt  that  religion  could  never  be  a 
living  and  quickening  principle  if  we  only  assented  to  it  as 
a  mere  act  of  the  understanding.  Something  more  was 
necessary  —  an  operation  of  grace  —  a  manifestation  of 
the  Spirit  —  an  inward  revelation  —  a  recognition  of  re- 
vealed truth.     This  drew  me  towards  Quakerism,  yet  with 


160  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

too  clear  a  perception  of  the  errors  and  follies  of  the 
Quakers  to  be  wholly  in  union  with  them.  In  what  has 
all  this  ended  you  will  ask?  That  I  am  still  what  in  old 
times  was  called  a  seeJcer  —  a  sheep  without  a  fold,  but  not 
without  a  shepherd  ;  clinging  to  all  that  Christ  has  clearly 
taught,  but  shrinking  from  all  attempts  at  defending,  by 
articles  of  faith,  those  points  which  the  gospels  have  left 
indefinite.  I  am  of  no  visible  church,  but  assuredly  I  feel 
myself  in  the  communion  of  saints. 

"Hence,  perhaps  it  is,  that  wherever  I  find  love  and 
faith  and  devotement,  there  I  am,  so  far,  in  communion. 
I  look  to  those  points  which  we  hold  in  common,  and 
overlook  the  accidents  that  accompany  these  in  the  in- 
dividual. Not  that  I  am  indifferent  to  the  differences  of 
belief;  on  the  contrary,  no  man  has  a  stronger  conviction 
of  the  fatal  consequences  which  result  from  the  corruptions 
of  Christianity.  You  have  seen  what  I  have  said  of  the 
Inquisition :  you  may  find  more  of  my  feelings  upon  the 
subject  in  the  eighth  number  of  the  '  Quarterly,'  upon  the 
Evangelical  Sects,  and  in  the  first,  upon  the  Baptist  Mission 
in  India. 

"  Vanderkemp's  history  is  in  the  first  volume  of  the 
Transactions  of  the  Missionary  Society.  I  have  both  the 
works  of  Crantz,  which  you  offer  me ;  and  also  Laskiel. 
The  first  two  volumes  of  the  Moravian  accounts  I  thought 
you  might  possibly  have  been  able  to  procure  for  me,  as 
the  neighborhood  of  Fulneck  seemed  to  imply  a  Moravian 
population  in  that  part  of  the  country.  The  other  volumes 
I  possess :  those  I  want  were  borrowed  for  me  from  Mr. 
Latrobe,  and  I  have  extracted  from  them  the  most  ma- 
terial parts,  especially  those  relating  to  Bavian's  Kloof. 
The  scene  of  Schmidt's  house,  and  the  remains  of  his 
mission  in  old  Helen  and  her  Bible,  are  worthy  subjects 


LETTER    FROM    SOUTIIEY.  161 

even  for  your  pen.  I  do  not  consider  that  you  feel  too 
strongly  on  these  subjects.  I  have  often  said  that,  of  all 
things  in  the  world,  nothing  could  give  me  so  high  a  grati- 
fication as  to  find  one  of  my  own  ancestors  among  Fox's 
Martyrs !  nay,  if  I  were  to  find  one  among  the  popish 
martyrs  of  Elizabeth  or  James,  the  feeling  would  be  little 
abated.  That  beast  Henry  VIII.  hauled  Papists  and  Pro- 
testants to  Smithfield  upon  the  same  hurdle  :  each  thought 
the  other  worthy  of  death,  and  in  the  sure  road  .to  perdi- 
tion ;  but  I  verily  believe  that  both  parties  met  that  day 
in  Paradise !  Dear  Montgomery,  though  you  may  think 
me  a  heretic,  you  will  not  rank  this  among  my  heresies.  I 
would  fain  say  something  upon  what  I  look  upon  as  yours 
—  implied  in  one  mournful  sentence.  But  when  you  speak 
of  experience  to  your  c  eternal  and  irreparable  cost,'  I  hope 
and  am  assured  that  upon  this  point  also  there  can  be  no 
radical  difference  between  you  and  me,  and  that  in  a 
happier  state  of  bodily  health,  you  would  not,  and  could 
not,  have  written  these  words.  I  long  to  see  you  and  to 
talk  with  you  of  this  world  and  of  the  next.  When  will 
you  come  to  me  ?  From  Leeds  there  is  a  coach  to  Kendal ; 
and  from  Kendal  there  is  one  here.  By  this  letter  you 
have  more  knowledge  of  my  inner  man  than  half  the  world 
would  obtain  in  their  whole  lives;  for  I  am  one  who  shrinks 
in  like  a  snail,  when  I  find  no  sympathy  —  but  when  I  do, 
opening  myself  like  a  flower  to  the  morning  sun.     God 

bless  you. 

Your  affectionate  friend, 

"  Robert  Southey." 

A  glance  behind  The  World  before  the  Flood  gives  us 

some  notion  of  the  labors  of  authorship.      Born   of  toil, 

how  few  appreciate  the  travail  of  soul  which  ushers  a  new 
14* 


IQ2  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

poem  into  the  world.  Having  been  born,  what  perils 
beset  its  infancy.  Snapped  at,  growled  over,  mauled, 
bitten,  happy  if  it  survive  to  bring  its  merits  before  the 
tribunal  of  time,  whose  discerning  verdict,  if  unfavorable, 
will  consign  it  to  a  gentler  end. 

The  "Edinburgh,"  baited  with  bigger  prey,  let  The  West 
Indies  alone  ;  but  its  apprehensive  author  already  quakes 
for  his  forthcoming  child.  "  These  giants  will  find  me 
out,"  he  says,  "  and  war  against  me  with  all  their  might, 
or  I  may  conclude  my  fame  and  my  poem  destined  to 
speedy  and  inevitable  oblivion ;  for  I  consider  their  praise 
as  entirely  out  of  the  question,  and  if  the  work  has  not 
merit  enough  to  provoke  their  spleen,  it  will  not  have 
enough  to  attract  any  permanent  admiration  on  the  part 
of  the  public.  I  am  endeavoring  to  make  up  my  mind  for 
the  alternative  of  gradual  success  or  utter  failure.  I  feel 
so  many  difficulties  in  my  own  views  of  the  subject,  and  so 
many  imperfections  in  my  execution  of  the  plan,  that  these, 
added  to  the  discouragements  which  have  been  cast  in  my 
way  by  others,  have  greatly  humbled  my  hopes,  though  I 
believe  they  have  quickened  my  exertions,  and  more  than 
doubled  my  diligence  in  touching  and  retouching  those 
passages  that  either  please  or  provoke  me  the  most." 

Anxious  to  make  the  most  of  his  friend's  criticism,  he 
spares  no  j)ains  to  perfect  his  labors. 

"Since  I  received  back  my  manuscript  of  The  World 
before  the  Flood  from  you,"  he  writes  to  Roscoe,  "  the 
entire  remodification  of  it  has  been  the  chief,  I  may  say  the 
only  object  of  my  poetical  studies ;  they  have  been  intense 
and  incessant  in  those  hours  that  I  could  spare  to  them, 
amidst  the  hurry  and  cares  of  business,  the  languor  of  con- 
stitutional melancholy,  and  the  occasional  discouragements 
which  I  have  experienced  in  my  progress,  both  from  the 


LITERARY    LABORS.  1C3 

misgivings  of  my  own  mind,  and  the  forebodings  of  some 
of  my  friends,  who  from  the  beginning  augured  my  inevit- 
able miscarriage,  and  who  still,  to  support  the  credit  of  their 
own  prescience,  do  their  best  to  make  me  miscarry,  by 
hinting  their  fears  concerning  my  hopes.  You  will,  per- 
haps, add  one  to  the  number  of  these,  though  not  from 
precisely  similar  feelings ;  but  I  mean  you  will  probably  be 
one  of  those  who  doubt  my  prudence  and  quake  for  my 
success,  when  I  tell  you  that  I  have  so  essentially  altered 
the  plan  of  this  piece,  that  it  will  be  at  least  twice  the  ex- 
tent of  the  original,  should  I  live  to  complete  it.  A  poet 
seldom,  perhaps  never,  improves  upon  a  plot  once  deliber- 
ately formed  and  laboriously  executed,  when  he  breaks  up 
the  whole  and  remodels  the  materials  with  the  addition  of 
many  others.  Consequently,  you  will  fear  that  my  new 
poem,  whatever  may  be  its  merits,  will  be  inferior  to  the 
old  one,  whatever  even  its  faults.  I  will  endeavor  to  dis- 
prove this,  not  by  argument  but  by  fact,  of  which  you  will 
be  the  judge  when  my  work  is  finished.  Meanwhile  it  is 
only  reasonable,  nay  it  is  imperatively  just,  that  my  friends 
should  suspend  their  sentence  of  condemnation  till  the 
crime  is  committed  for  which  they  threaten  it.  You  ivill 
do  this ;  and  whatever  may  be  your  doubts  of  my  success, 
you  will  not  assist  to  prevent  it  by  expressing  them  harshly. 
It  is  impossible  in  a  letter  to  communicate  an  outline  of  my 
projected  alterations,,  and  indeed,  if  I  could  I  would  not ; 
my  plan  must  be  seen  and  judged  in  its  execution,  and  not 
in  the  abstract ;  for  it  might  appear  good  in  the  latter,  and 
miserable  in  the  former,  as  in  the  latter  it  might  promise 
little,  and  in  the  former  work  miracles." 

On  the  cares  and  perplexities  of  his  calling,  the  friendly 
sympathy  of  Southey  fell  like  sunshine.  Personal  acquaint- 
ance they  had  as  yet  none.     Southey  was  now  in  the  noon 


164  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

of  bis  literary  excellence  and  domestic  enjoyment.  He 
had,  indeed,  to  labor  for  bis  daily  bread,  but  bead  and 
heart  whole  for  the  task.  Keswick,  his  forty  years'  home, 
is  in  the  midst  of  the  "  finest  and  most  rememberable " 
of  English  scenery ;  Skiddaw,  with  its  giant  grandeur ; 
the  larch-clad  slopes  of  Latrig ;  Derwent- water,  gemmed 
with  islands,  and  girdled  by  field  and  forest ;  Greta,  with 
its  babbling  melodies  —  these,  with  friendly  neighbors, 
household  felicities,  and  a  growing  library,  might  well 
compensate  for  the  brilliant  society  and  literary  quickening 
of  the  metropolis,  nearly  three  hundred  miles  off. 

"My  Dear  Montgomery, 

"You  talk  of  yourself  and  me  in  terms  of  comparison 
upon  which  I  must  not  comment,  lest  you  should  be  as 
much  pained  by  the  comment  as  I  am  by  the  text.  Let 
that  pass.  If  I  had  not  admired  your  poetry,  and  felt  it,  and 
loved  it,  and  loved  you  for  its  sake,  I  should  not  so  often 
have  thought  of  you,  and  spoken  of  you,  and  determined 
to  see  you,  nor  have  broken  through  the  belt  of  ice  at  last. 
"  You  wish  me  a  sounder  frame,  both  of  body  and  mind, 
than  your  own.  My  body,  God  be  thanked !  is  as  con- 
venient a  tenement  as  its  occupier  could  desire.  When 
you  see  me  you  will  fancy  me  far  advanced  in  consumption, 
so  little  is  there  of  it ;  but  there  has  never  been  more :  and 
though  it  is  by  no  means  unlikely  (from  family  predisposi- 
tion) that  this  may  be  my  appointed  end,  it  is  not  at  all  the 
more  likely  because  of  my  lean  and  hungry  appearance. 
I  am  in  far  more  danger  of  nervous  diseases,  from  which 
nothing  but  perpetual  self-management,  and  the  fortunate 
circumstances  of  my  life  and  disposition,  preserve  me. 
Nature  gave  me  an  indefatigable  activity  of  mind,  and  a 
buoyancy  of  spirit  which  has  ever  enabled  me  to  think 


LETTER    FROM    SO  UTIIEY.  165 

little  of  difficulties,  and  to  live  in  the  light  of  hope ;  these 
gifts,  too,  were  accompanied  with  an  hilarity  which  has 
enabled  me  to  retain  a  boy's  heart  to  the  age  of  eight-and- 
thirty:  but  my  senses  are  perilously  acute  —  impressions 
sink  into  me  too  deeply ;  and  at  one  time  ideas  had  all  the 
vividness  and  apparent  reality  of  actual  impressions  to  such 
a  degree,  that  I  believe  a  speedy  removal  to  a  foreign 
country,  bringing  with  it  a  total  change  of  all  external  ob- 
jects, saved  me  from  imminent  danger.  The  remedy,  or, 
at  least,  the  prevention,  of  this  is  variety  of  employment ; 
and  that  it  is  that  has  made  me  the  various  writer  that  I 
am,  even  more  than  the  necessity  of  pursuing  the  gainful 
paths  of  literature.  If  I  fix  my  attention,  morning  and 
evening,  upon  one  subject,  and  if  my  latest  evening  studies 
are  of  a  kind  to  interest  me  deeply,  my  rest  is  disturbed 
and  broken ;  and  those  bodily  derangements  ensue  that 
indicate  great  nervous  susceptibility.  Experience  having 
taught  me  this,  I  fly  from  one  thing  to  another,  each  new 
train  of  thought  neutralizing,  as  it  were,  the  last ;  and  thus 
in  general  maintain  the  balance  so  steadily,  that  I  lie  down 
at  night  with  a  mind  as  tranquil  as  an  infant's. 

"  That  I  am  a  very  happy  man  I  owe  to  my  early  mar- 
riage. When  little  more  than  one-and-twenty,  I  married 
under  circumstances  as  singular  as  they  well  could  be  — 
and,  to  all  appearances,  as  improvident ;  but  from  that 
hour  to  this,  I  have  had  reason  to  bless  the  day.  The 
main  source  of  disquietude  was  thus  at  once  cut  off;  I  had 
done  with  hope  and  fear  upon  the  most  agitating  and  most 
important  action  of  life,  and  my  heart  was  at  rest.  Sev- 
eral years  elapsed  before  I  became  a  father;  and  then 
the  keenest  sorrow  which  I  ever  endured  was  for  the  loss 
of  an  only  child,  twelve  months  old.  Since  that  event  I 
have  had  five  children,  most  of  whom  have  been  taken 


166  LIFE   OF   MONTGOMERY. 

from  me.  Of  all  the  sorrows  these  are  the  most  poignant ; 
but  I  am  the  better  for  them,  and  never  pour  out  my  soul 
in  prayer  without  acknowledging  that  these  dispensations 
have  drawn  me  nearer  to  God. 

"  But  I  will  not  pursue  this  strain  too  far.  The  progress 
of  my  mind  through  many  changes  and  mazes  of  opinion, 
you  shall  know  hereafter;  and  the  up-hill  work  which  I 
have  had  in  the  world  —  up-hill,  indeed,  but  by  a  path  of 
my  own  choosing,  and  always  with  the  conviction  that  I 
was  gaining  the  ascent,  as  well  as  toiling  for  it.  Something 
I  must  say,  while  there  is  yet  room  for  it,  concerning  The 
World  before  the  Flood.  You  say  that  you  are  about  to 
begin  it  again :  before  you  do  this,  reconsider  during  one 
half-hour  —  what  doubtless  you  have  considered  long  ago — 
whether  it  would  not  be  better  to  make  the  Flood  itself 
the  termination  of  the  poem,  which  would  render  no  other 
alteration  of  the  story  [necessary],  as  far  as  I  understand 
it,  than  that  of  relating  the  assumption  of  Enoch  in  the 
person  of  a  narrator  instead  of  your  own.  It  seems  to  me 
you  would  gain  a  grandeur  and  even  a  unity  beyond  what 
your  present  design  affords.  My  intention  was  to  assume 
Burnett's  theory  [of  the  Deluge],  a  book  almost  unequalled 
for  its  power  of  imagination,  and  to  have  connected  Whis- 
ton's  with  it.  I  have  conceived  a  youth,  the  bosom  friend 
of  Japhet,  perfectly  convinced  by  Noah,  but  refusing  to 
flee  from  the  wrath  to  come,  because  the  maid  whom  he 
loved  (though  herself  convinced  also)  will  not  forsake  her 
parents.  Their  death,  followed  by  their  immediate  beati- 
tude, would  have  made  an  impressive  scene.  The  outstand- 
ing figure  of  the  anti-Anakim  or  Jacobinical  party  (for  I 
had  the  parallel  strongly  in  my  mind)  was  a  man  with  the 
best  feelings  and  the  best  intentions;  but  erring  in  this  — 
that  he  lived  without  God  in  the  world ;  that  he  trusted  in 


LETTER  FROM  ROSCOE.  167 

his  own  strength ;  and,  provided  he  were  likely  to  attain 
his  end,  was  regardless  of  the  means.  He,  after  a  St.  Bar- 
tholomew massacre  of  all  his  party,  was  to  have  burnt 
(*  *  *  ?)  a  sacrifice  to  the  god-tyrant.  The  great  temple- 
palace  was  to  have  been  some  Tower-of-Babel  edifice,  built 
in  despite  of  prophecy,  and  as  if  defying  the  vengeance 
that  was  denounced.  It  would  have  resisted  the  weight 
of  the  waters  of  the  Flood,  and  have  overstood  all  things, 
till  (following  Burnett's  sublime  vision)  the  shell  of  the 
earth  gave  way.  You  have  here  all  that  is  worth  remem- 
bering of  a  plan  which  never  went  farther  than  this.  If 
any  part  of  it  could  serve  you  as  a  hint,  believe  me,  Mont- 
gomery, I  should  feel  glad  at  having  contributed  one 
unhewn  stone  to  your  building.  God  bless  you, 
"Your  affectionate  friend, 

"  RoilERT    SOUTIIEY." 

Roscoc  thus  writes  to  Montgomery : — 

"Allerton,  January  2,  1812. 
"My  Dear  Sir, 

"I  have  been  quite  shocked  on  seeing  The  World 
before  the  Flood  advertised,  as  being  in  a  state  of  forward- 
ness, by  the  booksellers,  at  the  end  of  the  Edinburgh 
Review.  Is  it  possible  that  my  very  culpable  neglect  in 
not  replying  to  your  last  kind  letter  can  have  deprived  me 
of  the  opportunity  of  seeing  it  in  its  improved  state  before 
it  appears  in  public?  I  assure  you,  most  feelingly,  that 
this  will  give  me  the  greatest  concern  —  not  that  I  conceive 
that  any  suggestions  of  mine  can  be  of  the  least  service  — 
but  because  I  shall  be  deprived  of  a  high  gratification,  and 
perhaps  lead  you  into  an  opinion  that  I  am  indifferent  to 
the  fate  of  a  work  of  which  I  have  the  highest  opinion,  as 
far  as  I  was  favored  with  a  perusal.     You  were  so  good  as 


168  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

to  say  that  I  should  probably  hear  from  you  again  before 
the  publication,  but  as  this  was  coupled  with  an  unper- 
formed contingency,  that  I  should  write  in  the  mean  time, 
I  cannot  pervert  it  into  a  breach  of  promise.  I  presume 
from  the  circumstances  to  which  I  have  referred,  that  the 
work  is  already  at  press,  and  that  I  shall  not  get  a  sight  of 
it  till  published.  If  this  be  the  case,  allow  me  at  least  the 
satisfaction  of  thinking  that  my  silence  has  not  been  attri- 
buted to  a  wrong  cause,  or  that  I  could  be  supposed  for  a 
moment  to  cease  to  be  solicitous  either  for  your  favorable 
opinion,  or  the  success  of  your  productions.  I  believe  I 
might  have  as  good  a  right  as  most  others  to  allege  excuses 
of  business,  <fcc.,  but  the  truth  is,  that  a  procrastinating 
disposition,  and.  an  unconquerable  reluctance  to  take  up  a 
pen  when  I  once  get  it  out  of  my  fingers,  are  the  principal 
causes  of  my  offence,  and  the  great  plagues  of  my  life. 

"  Could  not  this  inconvenience  in  some  degree  be  re- 
medied, and  could  we  not  contrive  to  have  an  interview, 
when  more  can  be  said  in  an  hour  than  can  be  written  in  a 
week  ?  When  my  son  William  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
you  at  Sheffield,  he  formed  some  expectation  that  you 
might  be  induced  to  visit  this  part  of  the  country.  Let 
me  then  inform  you  that  I  have  lately  enlarged  my  house, 
and  that  I  can  accommodate  a  friend ;  and  that  I  know  no 
one  whom  it  would  give  me  greater  pleasure  to  see  under 
my  roof  than  yourself,  where  you  shall  be  your  own  master, 
and  divide  your  time  between  town  and  country,  reading 
and  exercise,  as  you  wish.  No  time  can  be  inconvenient, 
if  I  have  only  a  day  or  two's  notice  to  be  in  the  way ;  and 
I  shall  only  add,  that  the  sooner  it  takes  place,  the  more 
agreeable  it  will  be  to, 

"My  dear  sir,  your  ever  faithful  friend, 

"W.  Roscoe." 


MONTGOMERY'S    REPLY.  169 

In  reply,  1lie  poet  writes  : — 

"Sheffield,  January  17,  1812. 

"Dear  Sir, 

"  I  do  not  know  whether  I  was  more  pleased  or  sorry 
at  the  concern  which  you  express  in  your  last  kind  letter, 
lest  I  should  have  prepared  my  long  poem  for  the  public, 
without  again  laying  it  before  you  in  manuscript.  But  I 
should,  indeed,  have  been  grieved,  if  your  apprehension 
had  been  well-founded,  and  I  had  forfeited  your  confidence 
by  not  giving  you  mine,  when  it  was  most  due,  and  where 
I  might  expect  to  be  essentially  benefited  by  your  candid 
but  indulgent  criticisms.  I  will  tell  you  the  truth.  You 
were  the  last  friend  to  whom  I  communicated  the  poem  in 
its  original  state.  When  I  received  it  back  from  you,  I 
laid  it  aside,  with  all  the  comments  which  had  been  made 
upon  it,  for  several  months,  and,  indeed,  shut  it  as  much  as 
possible  out  of  my  thoughts ;  my  mind  was  wearied  of  the 
subject ;  I  had  looked  upon  it,  as  one  may  look  upon  the 
sun,  till  it  becomes  darkness,  and  the  eye  turns  for  refresh- 
ment to  green  fields.  Glorious  as  it  had  appeared  to  me 
at  first,  at  length  it  either  lost  its  lustre  or  I  my  sight  with 
gazing  at  it.  Indeed,  I  was  dissatisfied  with  my  own  ex- 
ecution of  the  poem,  and  disheartened,  almost  to  despair, 
by  the  strictures  which  had  been  passed  upon  it  by  some 
of  my  best  friends.  You  and  Dr.  Aikin  were  by  far  the 
most  fiivorable  in  your  judgments,  and  I  attribute  none  of 
my  misery  on  this  occasion  to  either  of  you ;  at  the  same 
time  I  do  not  mean  to  arraign  the  severer  sentences  of  my 
other  friends,  but  they  told  mo  with  more  boldness  of  the 
faults  of  my  poem,  and  almost  persuaded  me  that  it  was 
worthless,  or  my  mind  powerless,  for  I  could  not  for  a  very 
long  time  conceive  any  way  to  render  the  plan  more  inter- 
15 


170  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

esting,  without  which  they  convinced  me  it  was  impossible 
to  please  the  public  with  such  a  piece.  While  I  was  medi- 
tating the  renovation  of  it,  Longman  and  Co.  wrote  to  me 
to  say  that  they  were  preparing  a  list  of  works  for  publica- 
tion, and  they  wished  my  name  to  appear  with  an  announce- 
ment of  any  poem  that  I  might  have  in  hand.  This  was  in 
autumn,  1810.  I  gave  them  the  title  of  The  World  before 
the  Flood,  but  told  them  it  certainly  would  not  be  ready 
for  the  press  in  less  than  twelve  months.  It  was,  however, 
announced,  most  prematurely,  as  I  now  find,  for  the  poem, 
though  again  announced  after  the  interval  of  a  year,  is  not 
likely  to  be  fit  for  publication  before  next  Christmas,  at  the 
earliest.  Towards  the  latter  end  of  1810,  having  new-cast 
the  form  of  my  piece,  I  began  to  work  upon  it  with  consi- 
derable spirit,  and  continued  diligently  at  my  task  till  June 
last ;  when,  having  finished  four  cantos,  the  greater  part  Of 
which  was  original  matter,  I  sent  the  manuscript  to  my 
severest  critic,  who  is  at  the  same  time  one  of  the  sincerest 
and  warmest  of  my  friends.  He  kept  the  copy  till  Novem- 
ber, and  then  returned  it  with  such  a  terrifying  string  of 
remarks  attached  to  it,  that  I  was  ready  to  commit  both 
the  poem  and  the  comment  to  the  flames,  when  I  found  I 
had  been  laboring  eighteen  months  almost  in  vain.  I  laid 
them  out  of  my  sight  for  a  month,  and  then  with  a  trem- 
bling hand  began  to  trace  the  poem  line  by  line  over  again, 
altering,  if  not  amending,  wherever  he  had  found  fault,  but 
pertinaciously  adhering  to  my  own  plan.  I  have  nearly 
gone  through  these  four  first  cantos ;  I  had  written  a  fifth, 
which  my  Aristarchus  had  not  seen,  being  composed  in  the 
interval  while  he  had  the  others  in  his  Inquisition  chambers. 
This  is  the  statu  quo  of  The  World  before  the  Flood,  but  if 
I  have  health  and  a  sound  mind,  I  mean  to  execute  my 
plan  in  my  own  way  now ;  and,  availing  myself  of  all  the 


MONTGOMERY'S    REPLY.  171 

critiques  which  lie  by  me  on  the  poem  in  its  original  state, 
I  will  not  be  diverted  by  any  future  interference  of  friends 
till  I  have  completely  gone  through  the  task  which  I  have 
set  to  myself.  Then,  indeed,  I  trust  I  shall  be  as  willing  as 
a  poet  ought  to  be,  to  hear  the  opinions  of  those  whom  he 
esteems,  in  order  to  form  his  ow?i,  concerning  the  merit  and 
probable  success  of  his  work.  If  I  have  any  opportunity, 
in  the  course  of  the  summer,  of  safely  conveying  to  you 
any  considerable  portion  of  the  poem  in  its  progress,  I  will 
most  gladly  avail  myself  of  it,  and  thankfully  receive  your 
remarks  and  advice.  But  till  I  have  two  copies  of  the  MS., 
I  dare  not  again  trust  it  to  a  coach-office  entry,  for  I  was 
held  in  miserable  suspense  when  I  sent  the  four  first  cantos 
to  my  friend  above-mentioned,  who  lives  in  London,  and 
who  left  it  just  at  the  time  my  precious  packet  arrived,  and 
did  not  acknowledge  the  receipt  of  it  for  several  weeks.  I 
had  no  transcript,  and  a  very  imperfect  remembrance  of 
upwards  of  eleven  hundred  lines,  the  scanty  painful  fruit 
of  eight  months'  labor.  Should  I  be  enabled  (though  at 
present  I  see  no  prospect  of  it),  to  accept  of  your  very 
kind  invitation  this  year,  to  pay  a  visit  to  Liverpool,  you 
shall  see  all  I  may  have  at  the  time,  and  we  will  discuss 
freely  every  part  of  it,  if  you  are  not  already  sick  of  the 
subject  from  this  tiresome  detail  of  circumstances  sadly  in- 
teresting to  me,  but  of  little  importance  to  anybody  else. 
I  have  been  thus  particular,  not  to  indulge  the  petulance  or 
the  vanity  of  my  own  feelings,  but  from  sincere  respect  to 
you,  and  an  anxious  desire  to  convince  you  that  I  have  not 
wilfully  either  slighted  or  neglected  one  to  whom  I  am  so 
truly  and  gratefully  indebted.  Since  I  last  wrote  to  you  I 
have  had  an  unexpected  opportunity  of  opening  a  friendly 
correspondence  with  Mr.  Southey ;  a  man  whom  I  now 
feel  as  much  disposed  to  love  for  his  own  sake,  as  I  before 


172  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

admired  him  for  his  incomparable  talents.  I  am  thus  sud- 
denly reminded  of  this  rich  acquisition  to  my  few  but 
valuable  friendships  with  eminent  as  well  as  excellent  men, 
by  having  just  received  a  frank,  enclosing  a  transcript  of 
the  first  canto  of  his  new  poem,  '  Pelayo,'  which  he  had 
previously  promised  me.  He,  it  seems,  is  not  afraid  to 
submit  his  unpublished  poems  to  the  test  of  confidential 
criticism,  which  I  have  found  of  all  criticism  the  most  diffi- 
cult to  meet ;  because  there  is  so  much  delicacy  and  respect 
due  to  the  persons  exercising  it,  that  whatever  be  the  hon- 
est judgment  of  a  poet's  own  mind  (which,  after  all,  he  is 
bound  to  abide  by,  no  less  in  justice  to  the  public  than  to 
himself),  when  he  differs  from  their  decisions  (and  their 
decisions  are  often  contradictory),  he  appears  to  do  so  from 
self-will  or  self-love,  and  he  is  gravely  told  that  a  poet  is 
the  most  incompetent  judge  of  his  own  works.  This  I  do 
positively  deny,  and  I  affirm  on  the  contrary,  that  that  man, 
whom  all  allow  to  he  a  poet,  is  the  best  individual  judge  of 
his  own  productions,  though  unquestionably  the  true  worth 
of  them  can  only  be  ascertained  by  the  general  estimation 
in  which  they  are  held  by  others  who  are  qualified,  each  for 
himself  but  no  one  for  the  public,  to  judge  of  them.  I 
have  hastily,  but  earnestly,  read  over  Mr.  S.'s  canto  of '  Pe- 
layo,' and  the  first  impression  on  my  mind  concerning  it  is, 
that  after  the  general  opening,  which  did  not  strike  me 
particularly,  the  remainder  constitutes  the  most  awakening 
introduction  to  a  story  that  I  have  met  with  in  modern 
poetry.  I  have  always  considered  Southey  to  stand  fore- 
most and  alone  —  for  the  second  is  far  behind  him  —  of  his 
contemporaries.  I  find  a  thousand  faults  in  him,  and  per- 
haps there  may  be  half  that  number  fairly  chargeable  upon 
his  poetry,  but  they  are  faults  of  style  and  manner  —  wilful 
faults,  and  therefore  incorrigible  ones ;  yet  I  delight  in  him 


LETTER    TO    ROSCOE.  173 

beyond  any  one  of  his  brethren,  because  I  am  more  in  his 
power  —  he  carries  me  whither  he  pleases  with  an  ease  and 
a  velocity  so  deeply  transporting,  that  it  seems  less  the 
force  of  another  mind  than  the  spontaneous  impulse  of  my 
own  that  bears  me  along. 

"  Should  next  summer  be  a  fortnight  longer  than  from  my 
present  foresight  and  the  tables  of  the  almanac  it  is  likely  to 
be,  I  will  certainly  endeavor  to  employ  it  well,  by  making  an 
excursion  that  shall  include  both  Liverpool  and  Keswick ;  a 
few  days  spent  at  each  would  be  such  a  refreshment  as  my 
mind,  sick  of  its  solitary  meditations,  and  weary  of  the  im- 
perfect and  laborious  communication  of  a  few  of  its  thoughts 
in  letters,  greatly  needs  to  quicken  and  warm  it  on  these 
subjects,  the  very  interest  of  which  overwhelms  and  en- 
chants in  loneliness,  — for  I  have  almost  no  literary  society 
here ;  and  amidst  the  vexations  of  business,  troubles  of 
heart  known  only  to  myself,  and,  indeed,  incommunicable 
to  others,  together  with  exercises  both  of  my  understanding 
and  my  feelings  on  subjects  the  most  awful  and  important, 
—  amidst  these  trials  and  occupations,  occasional  literary 
discourse  with  superior  men  would  be  a  great  enjoyment 
to  me,  who  have  little  relish  for  the  pleasures  of  dissipation, 
or  even  of  innocent  and  healthful  sports  and  pastimes. 
When  you  favor  me  with  another  letter,  will  you  say  when 
you  heard  last  of  Mr.  Carey,  the  poet  and  artist,  who  has 
cast  me  off  for  more  than  two  years,  without  assigning  any 
cause  for  a  silence  that  distresses  me,  principally  because 
I  fear  I  have  unwittingly  offended  him.  Even  if  I  knew 
where  he  was,  I  should  not  intrude  myself  upon  him,  but 
I  shall  always  be  glad  to  hear  that  he  is  well,  and  that  he 
is  doing  well.  With  best  remembrance  to  your  family, 
"  I  remain  your  obliged  friend, 

"  J.  Montgomery." 
lo* 


174  LIFE   OF   MONTGOMERY. 

"  Thank  you  for  your  comments  on  c  Kehama,'  "  Southey 
again  writes.  "  The  best  reply  that  I  can  make  to  what 
you  say  of  the  line  — '  never  should  she  behold  her  father 
more,'  is  to  say  that  it  is  altered  upon  your  suggestion. 
You  say  Kailyal  is  a  Christian — is  it  not  because  the  poem, 
supposing  the  truth  of  the  mythology  on  which  it  is  built, 
requires  from  her  faith  and  resignation  ?  I  know  not  how 
it  was  that  in  my  youth  the  mythologies  and  supersti- 
tions of  various  nations  laid  strong  hold  on  my  imagination 
and  struck  deep  root  in  it ;  so  that  before  I  was  twenty, 
one  of  my  numerous  plans  was  that  of  exhibiting  the  most 
striking  fiction  of  each  in  a  long  poem.  'Thalaba'  and 
c  Kehama'  are  the  fruits  of  that  early  plan.  '  Madoc '  par- 
takes of  it,  but  only  incidentally.  If  I  had  gained  money 
as  well  as  reputation  by  these  poems,  the  whole  series 
would  ere  this  have  been  completed.  Do  not  misunder- 
stand me ;  when  I  talk  of  gaining  money,  nothing  more 
is  meant  than  supporting  myself  by  my  labors ;  and  the 
literal  truth  is,  that  for  many  years  I  did  not  write  a  line 
of  poetry,  because  I  could  not  afford  it!  'Kehama'  was 
written  before  breakfast  in  hours  borrowed  from  sleep ; 
and  so  is  '  Pelayo,'  as  far  as  it  has  yet  proceeded.  The 
world  is  brightening  upon  me  now.  I  get  well  paid  for 
prose  ;  and  yet  even  in  this  the  capricious  humor  of  the 
times  is  apparent.  Some  of  the  best  years  of  my  life  have 
been  devoted  to  the  '  History  of  Portugal  and  its  Depend- 
encies,' in  a  series  of  works  of  which  only  one  volume  is 
yet  before  the  public,  but  upon  which  as  much  labor  and 
scrupulous  research  has  been  bestowed  as  ever  was  or  will 
be  given  to  historical  compilation.  These  works  will 
scarcely,  while  I  live,  pay  for  their  own  materials  ;  whereas 
I  might  be  employed,  if  I  chose,  from  morning  till  night, 


LETTER    FROM    SOUTIIEY.  175 

in  reviewing  the  productions  of  Messrs.  Tag,  Rag,  and 
Bobtail,  at  ten  guineas  per  sheet. 

"Dear  Montgomery,  you  say  you  wrote  of  nothing  but 
yourself;  only  look  back  upon  the  great  I's  which  I  have 
sent  you  in  return.  I  have  always  said  that  we  English 
are  the  honestest  people  in  the  world,  because  we  are  the 
only  people  who  always  write  that  important  word  with  a 
capital  letter,  as  if  to  show  every  man's  sense  of  its  conse- 
quence. I  long  to  see  your  antediluvian  work.  Do  not 
talk  to  me  of  Alfred  —  for  I  am  engaged  three  subjects 
deep  after  '  Pelayo,'  and  Heaven  knows  when  that  will  be 
completed.  The  next  in  order  is  '  Philip's  War  in  New 
England,'  with  a  primitive  Quaker  for  the  hero." 


CHAPTER    X. 

MAY  IN  LONDON  —  MAY  MEETINGS  —  "  THE  GOOD  OLD  WAY  "  —  RELIGIOUS 
SOCIETIES  —  COLERIDGE  AND  CAMPBELL  LECTURE  —  LETTERS  TO  PAR- 
KEN —  LETTER  FROM  SOUTHEY  —  PARKEN'S  DEATH  —  LETTERS  TO  IG- 
NATIUS  MONTGOMERY  —  BUXTON. 

The  spring  of  1812  again  found  Montgomery  in  London. 
The  May  meetings  were  the  chief  attraction,  for  May 
already  was  the  anniversary  month  of  those  great  religious 
organizations  which  send  the  life-blood  of  Christianity 
throughout  the  world.  Many  of  them  were  then  in  the 
freshness  of  their  youth.  The  Society  for  the  Propagation 
of  the  Gospel  in  Foreign  Parts,  one  of  the  first  organized 
Protestant  missionary  enterprises,  could  indeed  date  back 
its  charter  more  than  one  hundred  years.  It  embraced  both 
a  home  and  foreign  field  ;  and  extensive  missionary  opera- 
tions were  carried  on  in  this  country  under  its  patronage. 
John  Wesley  came  to  Georgia  in  its  service.  Besides  a 
Missionary,  it  was  a  Bible  and  Tract  Society,  issuing  scanty 
supplies  of  religious  reading  long  before  the  birth  of  insti- 
tutions for  that  appropriate  object.  The  benefactions  of 
this  charity  flowed  more  directly  from  the  English  Church. 

In  1794,  an  article  appeared  in  the  London  Evangelical 
Magazine,  a  Dissenting  journal,  upon  the  duty  and  im- 
portance of  foreign  missions,  which  immediately  excited 
the  most  lively  interest.     The  Christian  public  were  ripe 


"THE    GOOD    OLD    WAY."  177 

for  action.  A  convention  was  convoked,  and  for  three 
days  Spafields,  one  of  Lady  Huntington's  London  chapels, 
was  filled  to  overflowing.  Rowland  Hill,  George  Burder, 
and  Dr.  Haweis  presented  and  enforced  the  object  which 
brought  them  together,  with  convincing  power.  The  re- 
sult was  the  London  Missionary  Society,  which  in  two 
years  purchased  a  ship,  and  sent  off  twenty-nine  mission- 
aries to  distant  continents,  and  islands  of  the  sea.  The 
story  of  the  "  Duff"  and  her  precious  freight,  and  the 
glowing  hopes  and  fervent  prayers  which  followed  in  her 
wake,  are  too  well  known  to  be  repeated  —  an  imperish- 
able record  of  the  triumphs  and  defeats  which  signalize 
the  onward  progress  of  the  Gospel  in  the  world. 

This  quickening  spirit  of  evangelism,  rising  from  the 
ebbing  waters  of  the  "  great  awakening"  which  has 
irrigated  Christendom,  hearkened  and  heard  on  all  sides 
the  sighing  of  souls  famishing  for  the  Bread  of  Life.  The 
voice  of  many  a  living  evangelist  and  stout-hearted  itin- 
erant was  gone.  Field-preaching,  with  the  marvellous 
oratory  which  gave  it  power,  had  passed  by.  The  spirit- 
ual emergencies  which  had  marshalled  such  men  as 
Whitefield  and  Wesley,  Romaine  and  Rowland  Hill,  had 
been  met,  and  now,  in  the  subsidence  of  extraordinary 
measures  and  the  withdrawal  of  distinguished  champions, 
the  sober  second  thought  of  the  Christian  public  was  called 
upon  to  devise  ways  and  means  systematically  and  per- 
manently to  supply  the  people  with  religious  instruction. 
In  1781,  a  village  pastor,  burdened  with  the  spiritual  needs 
of  his  flock,  wrote  and  printed  a  little  tract,  which  he  sent 
to  all  the  houses  round ;  some  received  it  gladly,  and 
others  mocked  at  "The  Good  Old  Way,"  for  so  Avas  it 
named.  The  success  of  the  little  book,  however,  pleased 
and  encouraged  him.     He  soon  published  six  more,  at  a 


178  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

"  penny  a  piece,"  rich  in  goodly  teachings,  and  so  for 
nearly  twenty  years  did  the  excellent  and  pains-taking 
George  Burder  unfold  to  himself  and  the  world  the  idea 
of  a  Tract  Society.  In  May,  1799,  he  went  np  to  London 
to  attend  the  anniversary  of  the  London  Missionary  So- 
ciety. A  sermon  was  preached  in  Surrey  chapel.  At  its 
close,  while  the  hearts  of  Christians  were  glowing  with 
the  preacher's  eloquence,  a  few  turned  aside  into  an 
"upper  chamber,"  to  whom  Mr.  Burder  disclosed  his 
experiments  and  his  success  in  a  new  field  of  evangelical 
labor.  The  little  group  listened  with  profound  interest. 
"  Combination  and  enlargement,"  was  the  immediate  re- 
sponse. The  next  morning,  forty  gentlemen  breakfasted 
together  at  St.  Paul's  Coffee-house.  Joseph  Hughes  was 
there,  with  his  clear  head  and  persistent  industry ;  Row- 
land Hill,  with  his  exuberant  wit  and  glowing  vigor; 
Wilks,  with  his  sagacity  and  clownishness ;  Thomas 
Wilson,  thoughtful  and  earnest.  What  other  dishes  were 
discussed  we  do  not  know;  but  certain  it  is,  "The  Re- 
ligious Tract  Society "  was  served  up  and  well  digested. 
This  was  on  the  9th  of  May,  1799. 

When  Burder  was  writing  and  printing  his  first  little 
sheet  in  Lancaster,  a  gentleman,  in  pursuit  of  a  gardener, 
was  rumaging  among  the  neglected  masses  of  Gloucester. 
Troops  of  noisy,  dirty,  swearing  children  dogged  his  heels. 
"  Oh,  sir,"  exclaimed  a  poor  woman,  "  if  you  could  only 
see  them  Sundays.  There  are  a  great  many  more  and  a 
hundred  times  worse  —  it  is  a  very  hell  upon  earth." 

The  gentleman  may  have  found  a  gardener  in  his  walk  ; 
but  he  found  something  more,  for  he  stumbled  on  his 
great  life-work,  and  Robert  Raikes  went  home  to  project 
the  first  Sunday-school  which  the  world  had  yet  seen.  His 
success  kindled  an  interest  all  over  the  kingdom.     Every- 


RELIGIOUS    SOCIETIES.  179 

where  pious  men  and  women  offered  themselves  in  this 
new  field  of  labor,  and  multitudes  of  children,  hitherto 
totally  neglected  and  helpless  in  spiritual  poverty,  were 
gathered  into  these  folds  of  religious  instruction.  Every 
city  and  sect  espoused  them;  and  in  July,  1803,  a 
"  Sunday-school  Union"  was  formed  in  London  to  give 
efficiency  to  the  general  cause.  In  another  part  of  England 
the  tears  of  a  little  girl,  whom  stormy  weather  hindered 
from  taking  her  weekly  seven  miles'  walk  over  the  hills 
to  read  a  "Welsh  Bible,  deeply  affected  the  heart  of  her 
pastor.  The  circumstance  was  expressive  of  the  general 
scarcity  of  the  word  of  God,  and  the  grief,  "  which  fell  a 
little  short  of  anguish,"  felt  in  some  districts  of  Wales  on 
account  of  it.  The  pastor's  heart  was  stirred,  as  men's 
minds  arc  sometimes  stirred  by  seemingly  simple  and 
strong  incidents,  when  the  public  mind  is  ripe  for  action, 
and  new  tracks  of  eftbrt  are  to  be  struck  out  into  the 
teeming  future.  Rev.  Thomas  Charles,  for  that  was  the 
pastor's  name,  journeyed  up  to  London,  to  attend  a  busi- 
ness meeting  of  the  newly  formed  Tract  Society.  It  was 
in  December,  1802.  "  My  people  want  Bibles.  Wales  is 
famishing  for  the  word  of  God,"  is  the  pastor's  agonizing 
cry.  Can  such  a  want  be  put  off  or  neglected  ?  But  how 
supply  it  ?  The  question  needed  little  reiteration.  "  A 
Society  must  be  formed  for  this  purpose,  and  if  for  Wales 
why  not  for  the  empire  and  the  world?"  said  Joseph 
Hughes,  his  eye  kindling  and  his  heart  encompassing  the 
world-wide  want.  Joseph  Hughes  was  a  Baptist  clergy- 
man, but  no  sectarian  leading-strings  crippled  the  catholic 
breadth  of  his  manly  piety. 

The  thought  has  taken  wings.  Granville  Sharp  lays 
hold  of  it.  Wilberforce  embraces  it.  Zachary  Macaulay 
advocates  it.     Lord  Teignmouth  subscribes  to  it.     Bishops 


180  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

and  laymen,  episcopal  and  dissenting  interests  rally  around 
the  proposed  institution.  At  a  general  meeting  of  its 
friends  on  the  2d  of  May,  1804,  at  the  London  Tavern, 
the  new  Society  may  be  said  to  have  been  christened  under 
the  name  of  the  "  British  and  Foreign  Bible  Society,"  in 
whose  capacious  grasp  every  nation  under  heaven  may 
hear  the  word  of  God  in  their  own  language. 

Montgomery  had  now  b.egun  to  take  a  growing  interest 
in  these  institutions.  The  year  before  (1811),  Mr.  Hughes, 
with  John  Owen,  and  Dr.  Steinkopff,  Secretaries  of  the  Bible 
Society,  visited  Sheffield,  and  advocated  its  cause  before  a 
crowded  audience.  The  editor  of  the  Iris  was  present, 
who,  in  the  next  number,  thus  warmly  expresses  himself: 

"  To  confess  the  truth,  we  surrendered  our  feelings  so 
entirely  to  the  speakers  on  this  delightful  occasion,  that  we 
were  perfectly  passive  to  every  momentary  impression 
which  they  made  in  the  course  of  their  respective  ad- 
dresses; and  it  was  not  till  long  after  the  meeting  was 
over,  that  we  could  so  compose  ourselves,  as  to  endeavor 
to  fix  on  our  mind  any  definite  idea  of  the  pleasure  which 
we  had  enjoyed,  or  recollect  even  the  prominent  features 
of  the  speeches  which  we  had  heard.  We  certainly  never 
did  witness  such  transcendent  and  contrasted  abilities  so 
well  and  so  successfully  employed.  Yet,  after  all,  what 
were  the  men,  and  what  was  their  manner  of  speech,  in 
comparison  with  the  sublime  and  inspiring  subject  on 
which  they  exercised  their  talents  ?  Let  us  give  God  the 
glory  :  it  was  the  altar  on  which  these  gifts  were  laid  that 
sanctified  the  gifts ;  and  though  we  may  not  be  able  to 
heap  such  precious  offerings  there,  yet  to  that  altar  let  us 
brincr  what  we  have,  though  it  be  nothing  but  a  broken 
heart  and  a  contrite  spirit.  When  the  wise  men  from  the 
East  had  opened  their  treasures,  they  presented  the  infant 


COLERIDGE    AND    CAMPBELL.  181 

Saviour  with  gold,  frankincense,  and  myrrh;    yet  was  the 

simple  homage  of  the  shepherds  at  his  manger-side  not  less 
accepted.  Let  each,  let  all  of  us,  then,  join  hand  and 
heart,  however  poor,  however  weak  we  may  be,  to  forward 
the  glorious  work  in  which  these  our  elder  brethren  are 
so  pre-eminently  engaged." 

In  the  spring  of  1812,  as  we  have  said,  Montgomery 
visited  the  metropolis,  chiefly  to  attend  the  anniversaries 
of  these  religious  Societies,  towards  whose  purposes  and 
progress  his  Christian  sympathies  were  now  strongly 
attracted.  Exeter  Hall,  a  place  so  intimately  associated 
with  the  May  meetings  in  our  day,  was  not  built  until 
1830.  Freemason's  Hall,  in  Great  Queen  street,  Holborn, 
was  then  the  principal  centre  of  popular  assembling,  and 
its  walls  long  resounded  with  the  stirring  appeals  of  an- 
niversary eloquence.  "  The  Royal  Institution"  also  offered 
its  bill  to  the  literary  tastes  of  the  Sheffield  visitor,  where 
Coleridge  and  Campbell  were  drawing  brilliant  houses 
by  their  lectures  on  poetry.  The  author  of '  The  Pleasures 
of  Hope'  and  'Gertrude  of  Wyoming'  lived  in  the  beau- 
tiful village  of  Sydenham,  some  miles  from  London,  de- 
pendent upon  publishers  for  his  daily  bread.  And  Cole- 
ridge —  it  was  then  "  poor  Coleridge  !  "  The  terrible 
habit  which  quenched  the  light  of  his  genius,  was  rapidly 
gaining  the  mastery,  "  so  that  by  two  o'clock,"  says  one, 
sadly  retrospecting  on  his  fallen  greatness,  "  when  lie 
should  have  been  in  attendance  at  the  Royal  Institution, 
he  was  too  often  unable  to  rise  from  his  bed.  Then  came 
dismissals  of  audience  after  audience  with  pleas  of  illness ; 
and  on  many  of  his  lecture  days,  I  have  seen  all  Albermarle 
street  closed  by  a  lock  of  carriages  filled  with  women  of 
distinction,  until  the  servants  of  the  Institution,  or  their 

own  footmen,  advanced  to  the  carriage  doors   with  the 
16 


182  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

intelligence  that  Mr.  Coleridge  had  been  taken  suddenly- 
ill."     And  how  did  he  appear,  if  happily  able  to  reach  his 
chair  ?     "  No  heart,  no  soul,  was  in  anything  he  said  ;    no 
strength  of  feeling  in  recalling  universal  truths  ;  no  power 
of  originality  or  compass  of  moral  relations  in  his  novel- 
ties—  all  was  a  poor,    faint   reflection  from  jewels  once 
scattered  in  the  highway  by  himself  in  the  prodigality  of 
his  early  opulence  —  a  mendicant's  dependence  on  the  alms 
dropped  from  the  overflowing  treasury  of  happier  times." 
What   was   Montgomery's   impression    of   his    brother 
poets  ?      "  Campbell   read  from  a  paper  before  him,"  he 
replies,  "  but  in  such  an  energetic  manner,  and  with  such 
visible   effect,  as  I  should  hardly  have  supposed  possible. 
His  statements  were  clear,  his  style  elegant,  and  his  reason- 
ing conclusive.     After  having  wound  up  the  attention  of 
his  hearers  to  the  highest  pitch,  brought  his  arguments  to 
a  magnificent  climax,  and  closed  with  a  quotation  from 
Shakspeare,  in  his  best  manner,  off  he  went,  like  a  rocket ! 
This  lecture  was  the  more  striking,  from  its  contrast  with 
that  delivered  by  Coleridge  the  evening  before  from  the 
same  rostrum.     In  the  former  case,  the  lecturer,  though 
impressing  me  at  once,   and  in  a  high   degree,  with  the 
power  of  genius,  occasionally  accompanied  the  most  sub- 
lime but  inconclusive  trains  of  reasoning  with  the  most 
intense  —  not  to   say  painful  —  physiognomical  expression 
I  ever  beheld  ;  his  brows  being  knit,  and  his  cheeks  puck- 
ered into  deep  triangular  wrinkles,  by  the  violence  of  his 
own    emotions.      But,  notwithstanding   the   frequent   ob- 
scurity of  his  sentiments,    and    this  'painful'    accompani- 
ment,  when    the  lecture  closed,   you   could  not  say  you 
had   been   disappointed.     "Whatever  Campbell  undertakes 
he  finishes ;    Coleridge  too   often  leaves  splendid  attempts 
incomplete.     The  former,  when  I  heard  him,  seemed  like  a 


REFLECTIONS     ON    LONDON.  183 

racc-horsc,  starting,  careering,  and  coming  in  with  admira- 
ble effect ;  the  latter  resembled  that  of  one  of  the  King's 
heavy  dragoons,  rearing,  plunging,  and  prancing  in  a 
crowd,  performing  grand  evolutions,  but  making  little  or 
no  progress." 

But  among  the  manifold  attractions  which  literature  and 
art  could  offer  in  the  splendid  capital,  the  leanings  of  his 
heart  are  thus  disclosed  : 

"  London  may  indeed  be  the  metropolis  of  vice,  but  it  is 
the  metropolis  of  virtue  also.  If  sin  abounds  there,  more 
than  elsewhere,  grace  likewise  abounds  there  more,  and  is 
thence  universally  diffused  through  the  nation.  The  fact 
is  plain :  in  London  the  masses  of  good  and  evil  are  so 
condensed  and  contrasted,  that  when  we  contemplate  both 
together,  we  are  appalled  at  the  enormous  disproportion ; 
if  we  look  at  the  evil  separately,  Ave  tremble  lest  fire  from 
heaven  should  suddenly  come  down  and  consume  the  city 
more  guilty  than  Sodom  or  Gomorrah ;  yet  when  we  turn 
to  behold  the  good  that  is  there,  we  might  hope  that  Lon- 
don would  be  permitted  to  stand  for  ever,  for  the  sake  of 
the  righteous  who  dwell  in  it.  Every  lover  of  nature,  and 
of  the  God  of  nature  in  his  visible  works,  prefers  the  coun- 
try to  the  town.  Of  all  the  months,  the  month  of  May  — 
and  such  a  May  as  smiles  and  blooms  around  us  now —  of 
all  the  months  the  month  of  May  is  justly  celebrated  by 
the  poet  as  being, 

"  '  If  not  the  first,  the  fairest  of  the  year.' 

"  At  this  enchanting  season,  when  an  invisible  hand  is 
awakening  the  woods,  and  shaking  the  trees  into  foliage,  — 
when  an  invisible  foot  is  walking  the  plains  and  the  valleys, 
where  flowers  and  fragrance  follow  its  steps,  —  when  a 
voice,  unheard  by  man,  is  teaching  every  little  bird  to  sing, 


184  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

in  every  bush,  the  praises  of  God,  —  when  a  beneficent 
power,  perceived  only  in  its  effects,  is  diffusing  life,  and 
light,  and  liberty,  and  joy  throughout  the  whole  creation, — 
at  this  enchanting  season,  who  would  not  love  the  country  ? 
Who  would  choose  the  filth,  and  confinement,  and  tumult 
of  the  town?  I  love  the  country;  I  love  the  month  of 
May ;  yet  the  month  of  May,  when  the  country  is  most 
beautiful  (had  I  freedom  of  choice),  I  would  spend  in  Lon- 
don. And  why  ?  Because  in  that  month  the  assemblies 
of  the  people  of  God  are  most  frequent  and  most  full. 
Then,  too,  the  tribes  from  the  provinces  go  up  to  worship 
there  at  the  anniversaries  of  various  institutions.  The  bliss 
and  festivity  of  nature  in  spring  are  but  faint  and  imperfect 
resemblances  of  the  enjoyment  of  those  seasons  of  refresh- 
ing from  the  presence  of  the  Most  High." 

On  his  return  home,  the  thread  of  his  summer  life  we 
draw  out  from  his  letters.     He  thus  writes  to  Parken  : 

"Sheffield,  June  10,  1812. 
"  My  Dear  Feiexd, 

"  This  is  the  fifth  letter  I  have  written  to-day  (you 
would  tell  me  it  is  not  yet  written,  but  it  will  be  before 
you  can  tell  me  so,  Mr.  Special  Pleader  !)  and,  therefore,  I 
promise  you  it  shall  be  a  brief  one.  Indeed,  I  have  nothing 
to  say  except  that  I  am  once  more  in  Sheffield,  but  not  yet 
settled  into  myself;  neither  the  whirl  of  mind,  nor  the 
nervous  agitation  of  my  frame,  have  yet  been  wearied  into 
rest.  Since  I  left  home  in  the  beginning  of  May,  I  have 
never  yet  had  one  hour  of  sober  thinking,  or  sober  feeling, 
—  I  mean  every-day  thinking  and  feeling,  —  thinking  and 
feeling  that  do  not  wear  and  tear  out  life  itself,  with  alter- 
nate joys  and  torments,  reveries  or  trances.  O  how  I  long 
for  quietude  !    After  all  the  excesses  and  exhaustion  of  such 


LETTER    TO    PARKEN.  185 

intercourse  as  I  held  in  London  with  spirits  of  fire,  and  air, 
and  earth,  and  water,  —  for  spirits  of  each  of  these  de- 
scriptions I  encountered,  —  my  heart  and  soul  desire  noth- 
ing so  earnestly  as  peace  in  solitude.  In  town  I  had  too 
much  society ;  at  home  I  have  too  little ;  four  weeks  of 
the  former  have  therefore  so  unsettled  me,  that  it  will  re- 
quire four  weeks  of  the  latter  to  bring  me  back  to  my 
lonely  habits  —  I  mean  to  the  enjoyment  of  them,  in  the 
easy,  regular,  unconscious  exercise  of  them.  Certainly  I 
saw  and  heard  a  great  deal  in  London,  but  it  was  like  see- 
ing the  hedges,  or  hearing  the  nightingale  (as  I  actually 
did)  out  of  a  stage-coach  window,  the  former  in  such  rapid 
retrograde  motion,  that  no  distinct  picture  of  them  could 
be  retained,  the  notes  of  the  latter  so  interrupted  or 
deadened  with  the  lumbering  of  wheels,  and  the  cracking 
of  the  whip,  that  they  were  caught  like  the  accidental 
tones  of  the  iEolian  harp,  when  the  wind  will  neither  play 
on  it  nor  yet  let  it  alone,  but  dallies  with  the  strings,  till 
they  tremble  into  momentary  music,  instantly  dissolving, 
and  disappointing  the  ear  that  aches  with  listening.  I 
wonder  if  you  will  understand  this ;  I  am  sure  I  do ;  and 
yet  I  doubt  whether  I  can  make  any  one  else.  But  all  the 
sights  and  sounds  of  the  last  month  were  not  thus  ineffable 
and  evanescent  to  me.  Your  kind  looks  are  still  smiling 
upon  me,  and  your  kind  words  still  heard  in  my  heart.  I 
was  often  dull  and  distracted  in  your  presence ;  but  it 
was  '  my  weakness  and  my  melancholy '  made  me  so ;  for 
towards  the  latter  end  of  my  visit,  I  was  much  indisposed, 
and  most  so  when  I  had  most  occasion  to  be  otherwise. 
My  brother  and  sister,  to  whom  I  have  written,  will  tell 
you  more  of  this,  and  of  my  wretched  journey  home.  I 
am,  however,  I  thank  God,  greatly  recovered,  and  on  a 

review  of  the  whole,  I   am   unfeignedly   grateful   to  the 
16* 


186  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

Father  of  all  mercies  as  well  for  what  I  suffered  as  what 
I  enjoyed  during  my  stay  in  the  metropolis  and  its  neigh- 
borhood. When  you  see  Doctor  or  Mrs.  Gregory,  remem- 
ber me  most  kindly  to  them ;  I  shall  never  forget  the 
delightful  hours  I  have  spent  in  their  society :  every  bless- 
ing of  time  and  eternity  be  theirs  ! " 

A  month  later  he  wrote : — 

"  Since  my  arrival  at  Sheffield,  though  I  have  neither 
been  confined  to  my  bed  or  room,  I  have  not  been  in  a 
healthy  state  of  feeling  for  an  hour.  Colds,  coughs,  pains 
in  the  chest,  numbness  of  brain,  and  numberless  hypochon- 
driacal plagues,  successively,  partially,  or  altogether,  have 
afflicted  me ;  and  at  present  I  expect  no  relief.  But  the 
wounded  spirit  and  the  breaking  heart,  these  are  the 
hardest  to  bear  with  resignation  —  resignation  to  the  will 
of  God.  Not  that  I  feel  so  much  over  personal  suffering, 
or  repine  at  my  temporal  lot,  but  with  these  disorders  of 
my  perishing  frame,  there  comes  so  much  confusion,  and 
doubt,  and  darkness,  and  desolation  into  my  soul,  that  the 
powers  of  my  mind  seem  paralyzed,  the  affections  of  my 
heart  withered,  and  every  stream  of  hope  or  comfort 
passed  away.  Then,  when  I  can  neither  think,  nor  write, 
converse,  or  even  pray  with  connection  and  self-possession, 
I  do  indeed  deem  myself  smitten,  forsaken  of  God,  and 
afflicted,  —  worthily  smitten,  forsaken  of  God,  because  I 
will  not,  cannot,  come  to  him,  —  and  afflicted,  because  I 
perversely,  and  yet  inevitably,  refuse  the  consolations  of  his 
Spirit.  O  what  a  mystery  of  woe,  what  a  mystery  of  ini- 
quity is  this !  God  deliver  me  from  it,  or  carry  me  through 
it,  as  his  wisdom  and  his  goodness  shall  see  fit !  You  will, 
perhaps,  ascribe  my  recent  relapse  into  this  melancholy 


PARKEN'S    DEATH.  187 

state  to  the  interest  and  anxiety  which  I  must  feel  in  the 
welfare  of  the  person  by  whom  I  sent  my  last  unfortunate 
letter.  It  is  true  that  I  have  had  to  suffer  and  sympathize 
with  her  and  for  her,  in  a  very  difficult  situation  in  which 
she  had  ignorantly  placed  herself,  during  my  visit  to  Lon- 
don, in  which  I  found  her  on  my  return  to  Sheffield :  but 
believe  me,  if  my  heart  had  no  other,  no  heavier  weight  of 
sorrow  upon  it,  than  I  must  always  bear  on  her  account,  I 
should  be  a  happy  man  in  comparison  with  the  wretch  that 
I  am :  my  griefs  lie  deeper  than  disappointment  of  affec- 
tion ;  it  was  those  griefs  that  prevented  me  from  ever 
yielding  to  the  impulse  of  that  affection,  and,  unless  they 
are  soon  allayed,  must  for  ever  unfit  me  for  the  sweetest 
pleasures  of  this  life.  Surely  you  were  not  hurt  by  the 
levity  of  spleen  which  prompted  me,  at  the  time  of  writing, 
not  to  give  you  the  address  of  the  bearer  of  my  letter.  I 
had  no  worse  motive  for  this,  certainly,  than  that  the  com- 
munication would  have  been  of  no  service  either  to  you  or 
her,  as  you  will  be  convinced  when  I  tell  you  she  was  going 
to  Mrs.  IT  *  *  *  *  %  at  Ilampstead.  There,  if  you  have 
either  desire  or  occasion  to  introduce  yourself,  at  any  time 
in  the  course  of  two  months,  by  mentioning  my  name  you 
will  be  kindly  received  by  both  the  ladies." 

But  the  friend  to  whom  these  letters  were  addressed  was 
no  more.  He  died,  while  on  a  circuit  of  professional  duty, 
after  a  short  illness,  at  Aylesbury,  a  man  whose  talents,  in- 
tegrity, and  literary  culture  adorned  every  station  which 
Providence  had  assigned  him. 

"  In  praise  and  blame  alike  sincere,     - 
But  still  most  kind  when  most  severe." 


188  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

The  following  letter  was  addressed  to  his  brother,  the 
Rev.  Ignatius  Montgomery,  and  his  wife : 

"  Sheffield,  July  27,  1812. 
"  My  Dear  Brother  and  Sister, 

"  You  will  immediately  forgive  my  fortnight's  silcnee 
at  a  most  interesting  and  critical  juncture,  when  I  inform 
you  that  I  fully  expected  that  on  Monday  and  Tuesday  last 
you  would  have  heard  both  from  me  and  of  me,  by  our 
friend  Parken,  as  I  despatched  a  letter  on  the  Saturday 
preceding  to  meet  him  on  his  return  from  the  circuit,  and 
requested  him  to  inform  you  that  I  continued  so  weak  in 
body,  indeed  so  much  indisposed,  that  I  had  determined  to 
try  the  Buxton  waters  this  week,  but  that  you  should  hear 
from  me  before  I  left  Sheffield.  Had  I  not  relied  upon  tins, 
assuredly  I  should  have  written  at  that  time  directly  to 
you,  to  congratulate  you  with  gladness  of  affection  on  the 
birth  of  the  dear  little  stranger  that  has  been  sent  amongst 
us  to  add  to  our  number  and  our  felicity.  Anxiously  and 
earnestly  have  I  longed  for  this  intelligence,  and  thrice 
welcome  it  was,  though  it  came  when  I  was  in  darkness  of 
spirit  and  debility  of  frame,  that  made  life  burthensome 
and  death  dreadful  to  me.  Do  not,  I  intreat  you,  as  you 
love  me,  as  you  desire  your  own  peace,  and  as  you  trust  in 
God,  our  common  Saviour,  do  not  be  alarmed  at  this  ac- 
knowledgment of  my  state  of  mind  and  body,  which  has 
been  the  same  in  a  greater  or  less  degree  ever  since  my  re- 
turn to  Sheffield.  I  am  not  despairing ;  God  is  only  humb- 
ling me  under  his  mighty  hand,  and  I  bow  to  the  chastise- 
ment and  kiss  the  rod  that  smites  me,  as  I  lie  in  the  dust 
of  self-abasement  and  self-abhorrence  at  his  feet.  c  God  be 
merciful  to  me  a  sinner ! '  is  my  prayer ;  and  that  prayer 
will  be  answered  in  his  good  time,  and  in  his  own  manner. 
O  how  mysterious  are  his  judgments,  and  his  ways   past 


NAMING    A    BABY.  189 

finding  out !  My  clear  friend  Parken  now  knows,  though 
we  know  it  not,  nor  can  we  comprehend  it,  why  he  was 
thus  unexpectedly  removed  from  us,  and  he  acknowledges 
both  the  wisdom  and  the  mercy  of  that  awful  visitation. 
Three  letters  this  morning  brought  me  the  intelligence  of 
his  premature  death,  —  not  premature,  I  trust,  for  I  am 
persuaded  that  he  was  prepared  to  meet  his  God,  though 
neither  he  nor  we  expected  the  summons  would  be  sent  so 
soon.  My  heart,  which  these  sad  tidings  rent,  has  already 
been  flowing  through  two  letters  to  friends  on  this  dis- 
tressing subject,  and  I  will  not  —  indeed  I  cannot  without 
aggravated  misery  to  myself  and  unnecessary  infliction 
upon  you  —  dwell  longer  on  it  here.  My  letter  did  not 
arrive  in  time  for  him  either  to  read  or  hear  read ;  there- 
fore my  message  to  you  could  not  be  delivered.  I  thank 
God  for  his  merciful  preservation  of  my  dear  sister  in  the 
hour  of  sorrow,  —  but  her  sorrow  has  been  turned  into  joy. 
O  may  she  live  to  bring  up  the  dear  child  thus  happily 
given  her,  in  the  nurture  and  admonition  of  the  Lord,  and 
may  that  child  live  to  be  the  comfort  of  its  parents  by  ful- 
filling all  their  hopes  to  see  it  grow  in  stature  and  in  favor 
both  with  God  and  man  !  I  cannot  object  to  any  name  for 
the  sweet  infant,  which  those  who  love  it  best  shall  choose 
for  it ;  but  I  thought  —  indeed  I  made  myself  almost  sure 
—  that  it  would  be  called  Mary  Agnes.  Were  not  both 
its  grandmothers  Marys,  and  is  not  its  mother  Agnes?  I 
know  no  reason,  at  the  same  time,  why  it  should  not  be 
Henrietta,  or  why  I  should  not  love  my  new  niece  as  well 
by  that  name  as  those  I  have  mentioned:  'the  rose  by 
any  other  name  would  smell  as  sweet.'  By  whatsoever 
name  it  shall  be  called  in  due  season,  I  have  already  placed 
its  lovely  little  image  in  my  heart  amongst  my  warmest 
affections,  —  and  the  inscription  may  be  added  any  time. 


190  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

O  how  would  it  rejoice  me  to  meet  you  at  Buxton,  as  I  met 
you  last  year,  and  spend,  as  I  propose  to  spend,  a  fortnight 
there !  I  have  told  you  the  best  and  worst,  as  Ignatius 
desires  that  I  would.  Pray  for  me,  dear  brother  and  sister, 
that  my  faith  fail  not,  —  indeed  it  is  hard  tried  at  times.  I 
am  well  pleased  that  John  James  has  consented  to  abdicate 
his  throne,  and  that  it  is  so  much  better  filled  by  one  who 
is  so  much  less  than  he.  Kiss  both  the  deposed  king  and 
the  new-crowned  queen  from  Uncle  James.  Kindest  re- 
gards to  Robert  and  his  dear  family.  Farewell!  —  Your 
faithful  and  affectionate  brother." 

To  Joseph  Aston : 

"Sheffield,  July  28,  1812. 
"Dear  Feiend, 

.  .  .  "  Procrastination  is  the  mother  of  every  sin 
of  omission  of  which  I  am  daily  guilty,  and  by  which  my 
life  has  run  so  much  to  waste,  that  I  may  almost  say  the 
summer  is  past,  and  I  have  scarcely  begun  to  sow  for  the 
harvest.  This,  alas !  will  apply  equally  to  my  temporal 
and  spiritual  concerns.  I  am  always  a  day  behind  time, 
and  I  fear  sometimes  that  I  shall  be  so  at  the  last,  and  thus 
lose  eternity.  Many  melancholy  considerations  that  press 
upon  my  mind,  and  fill  my  heart  with  sadness  just  now, 
lead  insensibly  into  this  train  of  reflection  whenever  I  take 
up  my  pen  to  write  to  a  friend  —  which  indeed  is  as  sel- 
dom as  possible  ;  for  I  have  been  for  two  months  past 
nearly  unfit  either  for  society  or  solitude,  for  correspond- 
ence or  meditation.  The  month  of  May  I  spent  in  London, 
from  whence  I  returned  very  ill,  and  then  followed  such  a 
series  of  colds  and  nervous  affections  as  I  never  expe- 
rienced before  with  so  little  intermission  ;  for  I  have  always 
been  subject  to  these,  though  hitherto  with  lucid  intervals 


MENTAL    DEPRESSION.  191 

that  admitted  both  of  hope  and  enjoyment.  Now,  how- 
ever, the  evil  spirit  seems  to  possess  me  entirely,  and  the 
Harp  of  Sorrow,  that  once  so  sweetly  soothed  the  grief  it 
could  not  cure,  has  almost  lost  its  power  to  charm.  In 
this  state  of  debility  and  depression,  both  of  mind  and 
body,  I  am  induced  to  try  the  air  and  the  waters  of  Bux- 
ton. I  expect  to  set  out  for  that  Bethesda  to-morrow, 
and  stay  about  a  fortnight,  earnestly  praying,  and  amidst 
doubts  and  fears  that  assail  and  perplex  me  at  times,  still 
trusting  that  He  who  gave  me  life  will  yet  bless  me  with 
a  moderate  degree  of  health,  and  'spare  me  a  little  longer, 
that  I  may  recover  strength  before  I  go  hence  and  am  seen 
no  more.'  Forgive  the  tone  of  anguish  and  complaint  this 
letter  breathes.  I  write  so  seldom  to  you,  that  when  I  do 
write,  it  ought  to  be  a  cordial  from  my  heart  poured  into 
yours,  lightening  the  one,  and  refreshing  the  other.  I 
wish  I  could  thus  cheer  and  solace  you;  but,  wanting 
comfort  myself,  how  can  I  rejoice,  by  my  language  and 
sentiments,  the  soul  of  my  friend  ?  Yet  I  trust  you  need 
the  kindness  of  sympathy  less  than  I  do,  and  that  you  have 
happiness  enough  and  to  spare,  by  looks,  and  words,  and 
deeds  of  charity  to  friends  so  poor  in  spirit  as  I  am.  I 
I  know  you  will  bear  with  me,  and  therefore  I  freely  trou- 
ble you  with  the  overflowings  of  my  heart,  which  is  truly 
full  of  bitterness ;  yet  do  not  be  alarmed  for  me :  only 
imagine,  and  you  will  imagine  truly,  that  all  those  hypo- 
chondriacal and  constitutional  infirmities  which  have '  grown 
with  my  growth,  and  strengthened  with  my'  iceakness, 
are  now  upon  me  in  more  than  their  usual  measure.  These 
will  accompany  me  to  my  grave,  I  know ;  but  whether 
they  will  hasten  my  journey  thither  is  only  known  to  Him 
who,  for  the  wisest,  best,  and  most  merciful  purposes,  per- 
mits them  to  afflict  me." 


192  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

To  Buxton  the  poet  went ;  and  from  thence,  on  the  9th 
of  August,  he  wrote  to  decline  Aston's  invitation  to  visit 
him,  adding: 

"  I  have  no  heart  for  exertion,  and  no  spirits  for  pleas- 
ure ;  otherwise,  it  would  be  a  great  satisfaction  to  me  to 
meet  you  once  more  in  this  world,  and  to  meet  you  where 
you  would  be  seen  to  the  best  advantage  —  in  the  bosom 
of  your  family.  Surely  we  shall  meet  again  in  time ;  but 
when  and  where  cannot  be  foreseen.  O  may  we  meet  in 
eternity,  and  never  part !  " 

A  memorial  of  this  visit  to  Buxton  and  its  vicinity,  ex- 
ists in  the  stanzas  entitled  Hie  Peak  Mountains,  every 
line  of  which  indicates  the  pensive  tone  of  the  poet's  mind 
at  this  time. 

Again  he  writes  to  Ignatius : 

"Sheffield,  September  4,  1812. 

"  My  Dear  Beotiiee, 

"  With  your  last  letter  I  received  three  others,  all 
announcing  the  death  of  the  best  friend  I  ever  had,  or  hope 
to  have,  on  earth.  I  was  very  ill  at  the  time,  and  prepar- 
ing to  set  out  for  Buxton.  This  severe  and  sudden  stroke 
laid  me  lower  in  the  dust  than  I  remember  to  have  been 
at  any  time  before,  often  and  miserably  as  I  have  been 
prostrated  there  amidst  the  ruins  of  my  hopes.  I  went  to 
Buxton  on  the  Wednesday  following,  and  you  will  have 
learned  already,  from  the  annexed  stanzas,  in  what  a  for- 
lorn and  suffering  condition  I  found  myself  there.  I  stayed 
away  three  weeks  ;  and  since  my  return,  I  thank  God,  my 
unfailing  friend  and  helper  in  every  time  of  need,  I  am 
growing  stronger  and  healthier  every  day.  My  strength 
and  health  I  consecrate  to  Him  who  gave  them  to  me  for 


LETTER   FROM    SOUTHEY.  193 

his  own  glory  and  for  my  enjoyment.  ...  I  was  in 
private  lodgings  at  Buxton,  ou  the  hill,  above  the  Crescent. 
I  often  thought  of  you,  and  commemorated  our  few  walks 
by  going  them  over  again.  My  rambles,  however,  ex- 
tended further  than  your  eyes  themselves  ever  ventured 
to  travel  on  those  wild  and  melancholy  hills,  from  some  of 
which,  notwithstanding,  I  enjoyed  transporting  prospects. 
But  the  chief  companion  of  my  walks  was  the  spirit  of  my 
dear  lost  friend,  with  whom  I  held  most  sweet  and  mourn- 
ful converse  in  my  thoughts,  where  he  was  almost  hourly 
present.  I  am  persuaded  that  he  is  rejoicing  in  his  happy 
release  from  this  world  of  temptation  and  trial  in  which  it 
pleased  the  Lord  to  shorten  the  day  of  his  pilgrimage  and 
sorrows.  You  will  lament  with  me,  for  your  own  sakes, 
as  I  do  for  mine,  that  so  excellent  and  amiable  a  com- 
panion should  be  so  early  removed,  while  you  and  your 
dear  Agues  were  only  beginning  to  know  his  worth.  .  .  . 
Both  Agnes  and  you,  as  well  as  Henry  [Steinhauer]  were 
much  beloved  and  esteemed  by  him ;  and  had  he  been 
longer  spared,  you  would  have  been  more  and  more  de- 
lighted with  him.  His  talents  and  his  heart  were  too 
much  concealed  by  his  extreme  modesty  in  everything 
that  concerned  himself.  I  never  knew  a  man  so  truly  and 
quietly  disinterested.  .  .  .  My  kindest  love  to  Agnes : 
the  same  to  Robert  and  his  family." 


Southey  again  writes  him  : 


"My  Dear  Montgomery, 


"Keswick,  October  1,  1812. 


"You  have  here  the  second  [he  had  previously  re- 
ceived the  first  while  in  London]  book  of  'Pelaya,'  or>  as  I 
must  learn  to  call  it, '  Roderick,  the  last  of  the  Goths.'     I 


194  LIFE   OF   MONTGOMERY. 

have  more  pleasure  in  transcribing  it  for  you  than  I  shall 
have  in  throwing  it  before  the  world ;  for  though  I  cast 
my  bread  upon  the  waters  in  full  assurance  that  it  will  be 
found  after  many  days,  it  is  with  a  feeling  something  like 
that  I  should  have  in  setting  acorns.  In  all  the  prospect, 
the  church-yard  enters  into  the  foreground.  There  is 
another  thought  connected  with  publication,  which  tends 
as  much  to  humiliation  as  it  may  seem  to  savor  of  pride  — 
of  the  thousands  who  will  read  my  poem,  some  for  the 
pleasure  of  finding  fault  with  it,  but  far,  very  far  more  un- 
doubtedly for  the  pleasure  it  will  give  them,  how  very  few 
are  there  who  will  really  be  competent  to  appreciate  it ! 
and  how  frequently  have  I  had  occasion  to  remember  the 
point  of  Yriarte's  fable,  '  Bad  is  the  censure  of  the  wise  — 
the  blockhead's  praise  is  worse  ! '  But  in  sending  to  you 
what  has  been  produced  with  passion,  and  elaborated  with 
thought,  I  know  that  you  will  recognize  whatever  is  true 
to  nature ;  and  that  thus  I  shall  have  my  reward.  The 
figure  of  Spain  may  require  a  note  to  point  out  what  a 
Spanish  reader  would  instantly  perceive — the  badge  of 
the  military  orders,  the  castles  and  lions  of  Castile  and 
Leon,  and  the  sword  of  my  Cid. 

"Your  Peak  Mountains  make  me  repine  that  you  did 
not  come  where  you  would  have  found  subjects  as  much 
superior  in  loveliness  as  in  grandeur.  You  have  managed 
a  very  difficult  stanza  with  great  skill.  The  last  two  lines 
are  but  equal  to  one  alexandrine,  therefore  objectionable. 
You  have  been  aware  of  this,  and  so  managed  your  accents 
that  they  seldom  read  as  one.  The  poem  is  in  your  own 
true  strain :  it  has  the  passion,  the  melancholy,  and  the 
religious  ardor  which  are  the  elements  of  all  your  poetry. 
One  of  these  elements,  delightful  as  it  is  in  such  combina- 
tion, I  would  banish  from  you  if  I  knew  what,  like  Tobit's 


SOUTHEY'S   CHEERFULNESS.  195 

fumigation,  could  chase  away  dark  spirits.  Oh  that  I  could 
impart  to  you  a  portion  of  that  animal  cheerfulness  which 
I  would  not  exchange  for  the  richest  earthly  inheritance ! 
For  me,  when  those  whom  I  love  cause  me  no  sad  anxiety, 
the  skylark  in  a  summer  morning  is  not  more  joyous  than  I 
am ;  and  if  I  had  wings  on  my  shoulders,  I  should  be  up 
with  her  in  the  sunshine  carolling  for  pure  joy. 

"  But  you  must  see  how  far  our  mountains  overtop  the 
Derbyshire  hills.  The  leaves  are  now  beginning  to  fall  — 
come  to  me,  Montgomery,  as  soon  as  they  reappear,  in  the 
sweetest  season  of  the  year,  when  opening  flowers  and 
lengthening  days  hold  out  to  us  every  day  the  hope  of  a 
lovelier  morrow.  I  am  a  bondsman  from  this  time  till  the 
end  of  April,  and  must  get  through,  in  the  intermediate 
time,  more  work  than  I  like  to  think  of:  through  it,  if  no 
misfortune  impede  or  prevent  me,  I  shall  get  willingly  and 
well ;  for  I  know  not  what  it  is  to  be  weary  of  employment. 
Come  to  me  as  soon  as  my  holidays  begin.  You  will  find 
none  of  the  exhausting  hurry  of  London,  but  quiet  as  well 
as  congenial  society  within  doors ;  and  without,  everything 
that  can  elevate  the  imagination  and  soothe  the  heart. 

"  I  heard  of  you  in  London  from  Miss  Betham,  who  saw 
you  at  Mrs.  Montague's.  Thank  you  for  inquiring  about 
the  Missionary  Reports.  If  there  are  only  the  two  first 
numbers  [qy.  volumes?]  out  of  print,  I  will  send  to  London 
for  the  rest,  and  have  a  few  blank  leaves  placed  at  the  be- 
ginning, in  which  to  write  an  abstract  of  what  is  deficient, 
whenever  I  can  borrow  a  perfect  copy. 

"  My  next  poem  will  have  something  to  do  with  mission- 
aries, and  will  relate  to  the  times  and  country  of  Eliot,  the 
apostle  of  the  Nituencer  Indians,  and  the  man  who  trans- 
lated the  Bible  into  the  most  barbarous  language  that  was 
ever  yet  reduced  to  grammatical  rules.     The  chief  person- 


196  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

age  is  to  be  a  Quaker,  and  the  story  will  hinge  upon  the 
best  principles  of  Quaker  philosophy,  if  those  words  may 
be  allowed  to  exist  in  combination.  The  object  is  to  repre- 
sent a  man  acting  under  the  most  trying  circumstances  in 
that  manner  which  he  feels  and  believes  to  be  right,  re- 
gardless of  consequences  ;  and  in  my  story  the  principle  of 
action  will  prove  as  instrumental  at  last  to  the  preservation 
of  the  individual,  as  it  would  be  to  the  happiness  of  the 
whole  community  if  '  the  kingdom »  were  '  come.' 

"  Do  not  let  your  poem  languish  longer.  I,  who  want 
spurring  myself,  would  fain  spur  you  on  to  a  quicker  pro- 
gress. I  advance  in  these  things  with  a  pace  so  slow  and 
so  unlike  the  ardor  of  former  times,  that  I  should  suspect 
more  changes  of  temperament  and  loss  of  activity  than 
eight-and-thirty  years  ought  to  bring  with  them,  if  I  did 
not  find  or  fancy  a  solution  in  the  quantity  of  prose  labor 
that  falls  to  my  lot.  Time  has  been  when  I  have  written 
fifty,  eighty,  or  a  hundred  lines  before  breakfast ;  and  I  re- 
member to  have  composed  twelve  hundred  (many  of  them 
among  the  best  I  ever  did  produce)  in  a  week.  A  safer 
judgment  has  occasioned  this  change ;  still  time  may  have 
had  some  share  in  it.  I  do  not  now  love  autumn  as  well  as 
spring,  nor  the  setting  sun  like  the  life  and  beauty  of  the 
morning.     God  bless  you !" 


CHAPTER   XI. 

"the  world  before  the  flood"  published  —  new  interests — ■ 
engages  in  religious  labors  —  sunday  school  union  —  bible 
society  —  his  first  speech  —  correspondence  with  his  brother 

ignatius  —  re-admission    to    the    moravian    church dawning 

peace  —  sunday-school  labors. 

In  the  spring  of  1813,  The  Wo?'ld  before  the  Flood  was 
published,  prefaced  by  a  little  poem  to  his  departed  friend 
which  thus  touchingly  closed  * 

"  My  task  is  o'er ;  and  I  have  wrought 

With  self-rewarding  toil, 
To  raise  the  scattered  seeds  of  thought 

Upon  a  desert  soil : 
Oh  for  soft  winds  and  clement  showers ! 
I  seek  not  fruit,  I  planted  flowers. 

"  Those  flowers  I  trained,  of  many  a  hue, 

Along  thy  path  to  bloom  ; 
And  little  thought  that  I  must  strew 

Their  leaves  upon  thy  tomb  : 
Beyond  that  tomb  I  lift  mine  eye ; 
Thou  art  not  dead  —  thou  couldst  not  die." 

It  was  the  design  of  the  author,  as  he  tells  us  in  The 

World  before  the  Flood,  "  to  present  a  similitude  of  events, 

17* 


198  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

that  might  be  imagined  to  have  happened  in  the  first  ages 
of  the  world,  in  which  such  Scripture  characters  as  are  in- 
troduced would  probably  have  acted  and  spoken  as  they 
are  here  made  to  act  and  speak.  The  story  is  told  as  a 
parable  only ;  and  its  value  in  this  view  must  be  determined 
by  its  religious  influence.  Truth  is  the  essence,  though  not 
the  name.     Truth  is  the  spirit,  though  not  the  letter." 

This  poem,  which  is  his  longest,  though  inferior  in  unity 
and  finish  to  Milton's  master-work,  with  which  it  was  some- 
times unwisely  compared,  contains  passages  whose  descrip- 
tive beauty,  harmonious  flow,  and  quiet  earnestness,  disclose 
some  of  the  genuine  excellences  of  the  divine  art. 

"It  not  only  satisfied  the  large  expectations  of  his 
friends,"  we  are  told,  "  but  elevated  his  name  in  the  rank 
of  those  whom,  at  that  time,  the  reading  public  delighted 
to  honor." 

But  it  is  not  through  his  larger  poems  that  Montgomery 
will  be  best  and  widest  known  to  posterity.  These  are 
indeed  memorials  of  the  quality  of  his  genius,  and  the 
drift  of  his  soul ;  it  is  his  hymns  and  minor  poems,  the  over- 
flowings of  a  heart  full  of  poetic  insight  and  genuine  feel- 
ing, which  will  most  endear  his  name  to  future  genera- 
tions. 

His  friend,  Mrs.  Montague,  says  : 

"We  have  The  World  before  the  Flood,  —  but  we  have 
also  the  World  after  the  Flood ;  and  it  is  impossible,  though 
I  oppose  my  nine  children,  and  Basil  fences  himself  with 
bankruptcy  papers,  that  we  can  always  keep  it  out.  You 
will  be  with  us  in  the  shades  of  Bolton  [Abbey],  and  your 
own  Elysium  is  not  more  beautiful ;  there  we  shall  enjoy 
your  work." 

And  there  they  did  enjoy  it :  his  correspondent  was  in 
raptures  with  the  poem  : 


RELIGIOUS   LABORS.  199 

"I  have  read  The  World  before  the  Flood  again  and 
again.  I  do  not  know  any  character  so  sublime  as  Enoch  ; 
it  has  the  grandeur  and  awful  simplicity  of  Michael  Angelo 
—  I  borrow  my  comparison  from  a  sister  art,  for  I  know- 
nothing  like  it  in  poetry.  Why  did  you  include  in  the 
volume  any  of  your  Prison  Amusements,  to  bring  us  back 
to  earth,  and  even  cast  us  into  prison  ?  " 

The  painfulness  of  the  anxiety  with  which  he  waited  for, 
and  received  the  verdict  of  the  public  upon  his  works,  is 
somewhat  abated.  Years  had  naturally  moderated  expec- 
tation and  tamed  the  passions;  but  more  than  this,  other 
interests  were  engaging  his  affections,  drawing  him  away 
from  himself,  and  offering  him  that  ki^d  of  labor  which  the 
spiritual  exigencies  of  his  soul  most  needed. 

From  temperament  and  bodily  infirmities,  Montgomery 
was  prone  to  look  upon  the  dark  side  of  all  events ;  and 
his  religious  character,  of  course,  partook  in  some  measure 
of  the  same  element ;  his  soul  struggled  long  in  darkness 
and  despair,  and  only  slowly  did  he  appropriate  to  himself 
the  comforts  of  the  Christian  faith.  In  such  a  state  of 
mind,  wrestling  with  inward  doubts,  and  lingering  under 
the  shadows  of  Sinai,  the  new  religious  organizations  of  the 
day,  instinct  with  a  social,  active,  and  joyous  Christian  life, 
were  precisely  what  was  needed  to  draw  off  and  strengthen 
his  religious  affections ;  and  by  giving  him  a  work  to  do, 
enabled  him  to  gain,  through  love  to  man,  a  more  personal 
consciousness  of  love  to  the  Redeemer  of  men. 

We  are  glad  therefore  to  find  him  engaging,  heart  and 
hand,  in  the  new  religious  movements  which  are  stirring 
England;  those  Avhich  recognized  no  denominational  dif- 
ferences, but  united  all  in  a  common  bond,  Montgomery 
especially  clung  to.  His  broad  and  catholic  spirit  em- 
braced all  who  loved  the  Lord,  under  that  simple,  and  yet 


200  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

significant  name  —  Christian.       "  Life's   poor   distinctions 
vanished  here." 

"  Our  Saviour  and  his  flock  appeared 
One  Shepherd  and  one  Fold." 

At  the  first  anniversary  of  the  Sunday-school  Union  at 
Shefiield,  Montgomery  is  on  the  platform,  and  for  the  first 
time  appears  as  a  public  speaker.  The  associations  of  the 
occasion  evidently  animate  and  arouse  him. 

"  It  is  good  for  us  to  be  here,"  he  says,  "  even  as  it  was 
good  for  the  disciples  to  be  on  the  mount  when  their  Master 
was  transfigured  before  them,  and  aj:>peared  in  his  glory,  no 
longer  mere  man,  but  God  manifest  in  the  flesh.  And  how 
shall  we  better  employ  these  delightful  moments  than  in 
inquiring,  and  profiting  by  the  result  of  the  inquiry, — 
'Wherein  consists  the  happiness  of  heaven?'  The  happi- 
ness of  heaven  consists  in  two  things, — for  these  compre- 
hend all  that  pertains  to  happiness,  —  the  enjoyment  of 
God,  and  the  communion  of  saints.  And  wherein  consists 
happiness  on  earth?  The  answer  is  the  same, — in  the 
enjoyment  of  God,  and  the  communion  of  saints.  No 
other  enjoyment  or  communion,  where  these  are  excluded, 
can  merit  the  name,  or  give  more  than  the  semblance  of 
happiness.  It  becomes  us  then  to  nourish  those  social, 
endearing,  exalting  affections,  that  draw  us  together  on 
occasions  like  these,  and  unite  us  in  bonds  of  Christian 
friendship.  If  we  love  one  another  with  pure  hearts  fer- 
vently, we  shall  love  God  supremely.  If  we  fulfill  the 
first  commandment,  we  cannot  fail  in  the  second ;  if  we 
love  the  Lord  our  God  with  all  our  heart,  with  all  our 
mind,  with  all  our  soul,  and  with  all  our  strength,  then, 
and  not  till  then,  shall  we  love  our  neighbor  as  ourself. 


HIS    FIRST    SPEECH.  201 

In  the  worship  of  God  there  is  but  one  soul,  one  voice, 
one  song  among  the  ransomed  of  the  Lord  on  Mount 
Zion,  '  Worthy  is  the  Lamb  that  was  slain ;'  and  where- 
fore do  these  account  him  worthy  ?  Because  '  he  hath 
redeemed  us  from  every  kindred  and  tongue,  and  people 
and  nation,  and  made  us  unto  our  God  kings  and  priests.' 
Hence  we  perceive  that  the  communion  of  saints,  even 
in  the  enjoyment  of  God,  consummates  the  full,  yet  forever 
increasing  felicity  of  heaven.  Let  this  communion,  then, 
be  diligently  cultivated  among  Christians  of  every  name 
and  persuasion  :  let  this  felicity  be  begun  in  time,  and  it 
will  be  perfected  through  eternity." 

Of  the  meeting  the  Iris  gave  a  vivid  account,  and  it 
would  seem  to  have  been  an  occasion  of  unusual  interest. 

Mr.  Bennett  occupied  the  chair,  and  with  him  henceforth 
we  find  the  poet  associated  in  manifold  labors  of  Christian 
love.  A  few  months  later,  taking  part  in  the  formation 
of  a  Methodist  Missionary  Society,  in  Sheffield,  he  thus 
expresses  himself: 

"  In  the  Bible  Society  all  names  and  distinctions  of  sects 
are  blended  till  they  are  lost,  like  the  prismatic  colors  in 
a  ray  of  pure  and  perfect  light :  in  the  missionary  work, 
though  divided,  they  are  not  discordant ;  but,  like  the 
same  colors,  displayed  and  harmonized  in  the  rainbow, 
they  form  an  arch  of  glory  ascending  on  the  one  hand 
from  earth  to  heaven,  and  on  the  other  descending  from 
heaven  to  earth  — a  bow  of  promise,  a  covenant  of  peace, 
a  sign  that  the  storm  of  wrath  is  passing  away,  and  the 
Sun  of  Righteousness,  with  healing  in  his  wings,  breaking 
forth  on  all  nations." 

Extracts  from  a  letter  to  his  brother  Ignatius  and  his 
wife  on  the  death  of  a  daughter,  disclose  more  of  his  inner 
life: 


202  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

"Sheffield,  August  11,  1813. 
"  My  Dear  Brother  and  Sister, 

"  I  believe  that  this  letter  will  find  you  in  that  sweet 
and  humble  state  of  resignation  to  the  divine  will,  which 
best  becomes  those  who  sorrow  not  as  they  do  who  are 
without  hope  ;  and  since  the  bitterness  of  death  is  past, 
and  the  violence  of  grief  subsiding  into  patient  endurance, 
I  may  now  come  into  your  quiet  dwelling  in  this  accus- 
tomed form,  and  say,  '  Peace  be  unto  you.'  The  infant, 
He  who  lent  it  to  you  has  reclaimed ;  and  I  doubt  not 
that,  to  borrow  a  Scripture  phrase,  he  has  received  his 
own  with  usury,  at  his  coming,  on  this  occasion.  Remem- 
ber that  you  occupied  but  till  he  came ;  he  is  come,  and 
though  your  treasure  is  taken  from  you  for  awhile,  it  is 
only  laid  up  in  heaven  in  eternal  security  for  you,  and  will 
be  restored  to  you  in  the  day  of  the  Lord,  when  she 
whom  you  loved  so  dearly  and  mourn  so  bitterly  will  be 
one  of  the  brightest  jewels  in  your  crown  of  righteousness. 
I  say  this  under  the  perfect  persuasion  that  you  faithfully 
fulfilled  your  duty  as  parents  to  this  little  saint  thus  early 
translated,  yet  in  good  time  —  for  it  was  the  Lord's  time 
—  to  the  kingdom  of  her  heavenly  Father.  This  prov- 
idence you  both  feel  has  drawn  you  nearer  to  God ;  and 
the  nearer  you  have  been  drawn  to  Him,  have  you  not 
been  the  more  strengthened  and  comforted,  and  submissive 
to  His  will,  till  at  length  you  had  no  will  of  your  own,  and 
were  enabled  to  rejoice  amidst  your  affliction,  in  hope  of 
the  glory  that  shall  hereafter  be  revealed,  of  which  Hen- 
rietta is  already  a  partaker,  and  to  which  you,  though  later 
than  she,  shall  finally  be  advanced?  Since  we  met  in 
London  in  May  last  year,  this  dear  child  has  been  born 
into  our  family,  has  lived  in  it  her  full  appointed  time,  and 
is  entered  into  rest,  even  before  she  entered  into  conflict 


CHILDREN    IN    HEAVEN.  203 

with  sin.  I  had  a  sister  once,  but  she  was  in  heaven  be- 
fore I  appeared  on  earth ;  with  the  lovely  idea  which  I 
form  of  her,  the  idea  of  sweet  Henrietta  shall  now  be 
associated  in  my  mind  —  not  only  in  my  imagination  but 
in  my  affections  ;  for,  though  I  never  saw  either,  they  live 
and  they  will  live  forever,  where  —  O  God  grant  it !  — 
where  I  would  be  too,  when  I  have  put  off  all  the  sorrows 
of  mortality.  These  two  little  ones  are  perhaps  now  com- 
panions in  paradise.  Henrietta  —  you  know  not  how  much 
she  learned  on  earth  —  may  already  have  met  both  her 
mother's  and  her  father's  parents  at  the  footstool  of  the 
throne  of  the  Redeemer  —  for  that  is  their  place  even  in 
heaven  ;  and  I  can  imagine  how  many  welcome  things  she 
lias  told  them  concerning  Asmes  and  Ignatius.  Me  she 
never  knew :  it  is  well,  for  so  can  she  have  nothing  to  say 
which  a  spirit  in  the  body  might  imagine  would  grieve 
even  a  spirit  in  glory  to  hear.  My  dear  brother  and  sister, 
how  little  have  you  to  mourn  for  in  the  loss  of  a  child  so 
innocent,  because  so  young !  and  how  much  cause  to  re- 
joice, under  that  loss,  that  she  is  rescued  forever  from  the 
evil  which  is  in  this  world,  and  the  world  which  is  to  come ! 
At  this  moment,  while  I  am  writing  in  a  distant  part  of  the 
kingdom,  you  are  preparing  to  commit  the  precious  dust 
of  that  redeemed  one  to  the  grave.  In  spirit  I  am  with 
you.  When  that  dust  shall  rise  again  at  the  last  day,  O 
may  we  rejoice  together  !  I  must  tear  my  hand  away  from 
this  subject,  or  it  will  fill  my  letter ;  and  I  have  a  few 
things  to  say  concerning  myself.  I  have  for  several  weeks 
past  undergone  sore  trials  and  bufferings  in  my  own  soul. 
At  times  it  has  seemed  as  if  the  Lord  had  forsaken  me ;  as 
if  His  '  mercy  were  clean  gone  forever;'  not  because  He 
was  changed,  but  because  I  was  so  heartless  and  cold,  and 
alienated  from  Him,     I  have  indeed  been  much  indisposed 


204  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

from  similar  weakness  and  disorder  as  troubled  me  twelve 
months  a^o  ;  and  I  find  that  when  the  consolations  of  the 
Lord  are  most  needful  in  illness  and  infirmity  of  body,  they 
are  hardest  to  seek  ;  though  the  heart  is  alarmed,  and  the 
conscience  clamorous,  the  spirit  is  weak,  and  the  tempter 
has  a  tenfold  power  to  dismay  and  cast  down  the  sinner, 
who  either  has  not  known  the  Saviour,  or  having  known 
Him,  has  lost  his  confidence  in  Him.  I  am  a  very  forlorn 
being  in  many,  many  respects.  Since  I  left  the  Brethren 
I  have  never  dared  to  join  myself  with  any  other  com- 
munion of  Christians,  and  I  want  fellowship  of  this  kind 
more  than  in  any  other  way.  With  Calvinists  and  Meth- 
odists I  frequently  do  associate,  but  I  have  not  perfect 
freedom  with  either.  Good  men  of  both  sects  show  me 
much  love  and  kindness  ;  and  I  cannot  help  feeling  that  in 
their  charity  they  greatly  overvalue  me,  and  treat  me  in  a 
way  that  makes  me  little  indeed  in  my  own  eyes  in  pro- 
portion as  I  appear  excellent  in  theirs.  At  the  same  time 
I  lose  many  blessings,  which  can  only  be  enjoyed  in  Chris- 
tian communion  ;  and  my  soul  is  starved  for  want  of  these. 
When  we  meet,  we  will  talk  more  unreservedly  on  this 
subject  than  we  have  ever  yet  done,  if  I  can  find  grace  to 
open  my  lips  upon  it.  .  .  .  Remember  me  very  kindly 
to  Henry  [Steinhaur].  God,  our  Saviour,  bless  and  com- 
fort you ;  and  may  John  James  be  all  to  you  that  both 
Henrietta  and  he  were  before  !     Farewell." 

Unwilling  longer  to  remain  without  the  pale  of  some 
visible  communion,  and  conscious  of  a  growing  want  for 
the  peculiar  privileges  of  a  church  fellowship,  he  deter- 
mined to  seek  readmission  into  the  Moravian  congregation 
at  Fulneck ;  and  on  his  forty-third  birth-day  wrote  to  the 
presiding  minister  to  that  effect. 


REUNION    WITH    THE   MORAVIANS.  205 

"I  Avill  not  delay  informing  yon,"  was  the  cordial  re- 
sponse of  the  good  father,  "  that  in  our  Elders'  Conference 
to-day,  our  Saviour  approved  of  your  being  now  admitted 
a  member  of  the  Brethren's  church.  I  cordially  rejoice  in 
this,  and  present  my  best  wishes,  united  with  those  of  my 
fellow-laborers,  to  you  on  this  occasion.  Return,  then,  my 
dear  brother,  with  your  whole  heart,  to  the  Shepherd  and 
Bishop  of  your  soul,  inasmuch  as  he  has  manifested  himself 
peculiarly  as  the  Head  and  Ruler  of  the  Brethren's  unity 
—  return  to  that  fold  in  which  your  dear  late  father  lived 
and  died,  which  counts  a  brother  of  yours  among  its  useful 
ministers,  and  in  the  midst  of  which  you  enjoyed,  in  the 
period  of  early  youth,  spiritual  blessings  such  as  you  pro- 
bably have  not  forgotten.  Our  faith  you  know  ;  the  Bible 
we  acknowledge  as  our  only  rule  of  doctrine  and  Chris- 
tian practice;  and  our  constitutional  regulations,  which 
form  a  brotherly  agreement  among  ourselves,  yon  are  not 
unacquainted  with.  More  particularly  we  may  perhaps 
treat  of  these  things,  when  we  shall  see  you  here.  Renew 
your  vows  of  love  to  our  crucified,  now  glorified  Redeemer, 
and  may  he  preserve  you  blameless  in  the  bundle  of  life 
until  the  day  of  his  coming !" 

His  feelings  on  the  occasion  are  thus  described  to  Ig- 
natius : 

"  On  my  birth-day  (November  4),  after  many  delays,  and 
misgivings,  and  repentings,  I  wrote  to  Fulneck  for  read- 
mission  into  the  Brethren's  congregation  ;  and  on  Tuesday, 
December  6,  the  lot  fell  to  me  in  that  pleasant  place,  and  on 
Sunday  last  I  was  publicly  invested  with  my  title  to  that 
goodly  heritage.  The  dreadfully  tempestuous  weather, 
and  severe  indisposition  from  a  cold,  prevented  me  from 
being  personally  present  when  the  congregation  acknowl- 
edged me  as  one  of  her  members,  and  recommended  me 
18 


206  LIFE   OF   MONTGOMERY. 

with  prayer  and  thanksgiving  to  Him  who  is  especially  her 
Head  and  Elder.  To  him  and  to  his  people  I  have  again 
devoted  myself,  and  may  he  make  me  faithful  to  my 
covenant  with  him,  as  I  know  he  will  be  faithful  to  his 
covenant  with  me  !  Rejoice  with  me,  my  dearest  Mends, 
for  this  unspeakable  privilege  bestowed  on  so  unworthy 
and  ungrateful  a  prodigal  as  I  have  been.  Tell  all  the 
good  brethren  and  sisters  whom  I  knew  at  Bristol,  this 
great  thing  which  the  Lord  hath  done  unto  me.  O,  how 
glad  shall  I  be  at  some  future  time  to  be  preserved  in  life 
by  his  merciful  care  to  meet  as  one  of  them  in  your 
chapel!" 

Or  more  naturally  do  they  flow  in  the  beautiful  lines  of 
the  hymn : 

"  People  of  the  living  God, 

I  have  sought  the  world  around, 
Paths  of  sin  and  sorrow  trod, 

Peace  and  comfort  nowhere  found. 
Now  to  you  my  spirit  turns — 

Turns,  a  fusitive  unblest ; 
Brethren,  where  your  altar  burns, 

Oh,  receive  me  into  rest. 

"Lonely  I  no  longer  roam, 

Like  the  cloud,  the  wind,  the  wave  ; 
Where  you  dwell  shall  be  my  home, 

Where  you  die  shall  be  my  grave. 
Mine  the  God  whom  you  adore  ; 

Your  Redeemer  shall  be  mine ; 
Earth  can  fill  my  heart  no  more  — 

Every  idol  I  resign." 

This  step  had  a  visible  influence  upon  Montgomery's 
character :  it  defined  his  future  course ;  brought  the  dis- 
cordant elements  of  his  life  into  harmony ;  gave  strength 


SUNDAY. SCHOOL   LABORS.  207 

and  tone  to  his  influence  ;  and  in  the  growing  graces  of 
Christian  experience,  he  found  that  peace  and  comfort 
which  the  world  had  so  signally  failed  to  give  him. 

Immediately  he  entered  imon  a  life  of  active  service  in 
his  Master's  cause  ;  and  he  found  God's  gifts  only  enjoyed — 

"  When  used  as  talents  lent; 
Those  talents  only  well  employed, 
When  in  his  service  spent." 

The  Sunday-school  cause  he  warmly  espoused.  Besides 
more  general  labors  in  its  behalf,  he  entered  the  Red  Hill 
Sunday-school,  under  the  charge  of  the  Methodists,  as  a 
teacher,  where  his  faithful  and  affectionate  counsels, 
"armed  by  faith  and  winged  by  prayer,"  were  greatly 
blest. 

Nor  were  his  teachings  confined  to  Red  Hill ;  for  his 
sweet  Sabbath-school  hymns  are  sung  every  Sabbath  in 
this  country  and  old  England,  in  all  those  precious  nur- 
series of  the  church,  where 

"  Children  of  the  King  of  kings 
Are  training  for  the  skies." 

The  autumn  of  one  year,  Montgomery,  with  Mr.  Ben- 
nett, visited  forty  schools  in  the  embrace  of  the  Sheffield 
Sunday-school  Union,  the  report  of  which,  drawn  up  by 
the  poet,  shows  if  "  the  icorld  could  never  give  the  bliss 
for  which  he  sighed,"  a  foretaste  of  it  was  found  in  the 
Master's  work. 

"  On  many,  on  all,"  says  the  writer,  "  of  these  pleasant 
Sabbath-days'  journeys,  He  who  walked  unknown  with 
the  two  disciples  to  Emmaus  accompanied  us,  not,  we  trust, 
unknown,  though  unseen ;  and  while  He  communed  with 


208  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

our  spirits  and  opened  the  Scriptures,  in  the  fulfilment  of 
their  prophecies  concerning  Himself  at  this  period  by  the 
way,  we  felt  our  hearts  burn  within  us,  till  we  could  de- 
clare from  experience,  in  his  own  memorable  words  — 
1  Blessed  are  they  which  have  not  seen  and  yet  have  be- 
lieved.' ...  In  these  Sabbath  walks,  while  we  enlarged 
our  knowledge  of  the  adjacent  district,  its  mountains  and 
valleys,  its  tracts  of  waste  and  cultivation,  its  woods,  its 
waters,  and  its  inhabited  places,  till  every  hamlet  was 
endeared  to  our  remembrance  by  some  particular  and 
delightful  associations,  we  were  more  and  more  deeply 
impressed  with  the  utility  and  necessity  of  Sunday-schools. 
.  .  .  We  observed  that  in  every  neighborhood  where 
the  Gospel  was  preached  [mostly  by  itinerants]  if  a  school 
was  established  first,  a  chapel  soon  arose  within  its  in- 
closure,  or  at  its  side ;  and  where  the  chapel  [or  the 
church]  it  might  now  be  added  first  appeared,  the  Sunday- 
school  followed  as  its  necessary  accompaniment." 


CHAPTER    XII. 

LETTER   FROM  SOUTHEY  —  SARAH  GALES's  DEPARTURE   FROM   ENGLAND  — 
LOTTERY     ADVERTISEMENTS  —  APPEAL     FOR     MORAVIAN     MISSIONS     IN 

GREENLAND—  LITERARY    PROFITS—  DEATH     OF     ELIZABETH    GALES 

DEPUTATION  OF  THE  LONDON  MISSIONARY  SOCIETY — DEPARTURE  OF 
GEORGE  BENNETT  —  CORRESPONDENCE  —  MANIFOLD  LABORS  —  "  DAISY 
IN  INDIA"  —  CALL  FROM  SOUTHEY — LABORS  FOR  THE  CHIMNEY- 
SWEEPS—  AN  AMERICAN   GENTLEMAN  AT   HART'S-HEAD. 

"  Tiie  first  thing  I  have  to  say,"  writes  Southey,  under 
date  of  May  29,  1815,  "relates  to  Wordsworth.  I  put 
into  his  hands  your  review  of  the  '  Excursion,'  and  he  de- 
sired me  to  tell  you  how  much  he  was  gratified  by  it,  —  by 
the  full  and  liberal  praise  which  it  accorded  him,  —  by  the 
ability  and  discrimination  which  were  shown ;  but,  above 
all,  by  the  spirit  which  it  breathed,  which  is  so  unlike  the 
prevailing  tone  of  criticism. 

"Secondly,  —  but   first  in  importance,  —  now  that  the 

fine  season  is  arrived,  will  you  fulfill  in  summer  the  purpose 

which  was  frustrated  in  autumn,  and  come  to  visit  me  ? 

Neither  you  nor  I  need  be  reminded  of  the  uncertainty  of 

life ;  we  are  now  neither  of  us  young  men,  and  if  we  suffer 

year  after  year  to  pass  by,  we  may,  perhaps,  never  know 

each  other  in  the  body.     I  want  to  have  the  outward  and 

visible   Montgomery   in   my   mind's   eye  —  the   form   and 

tangible  image  of  my  friend.     Come,  and  come  speedily. 

There  is  a  coach  from  Leeds  to  Kendal,  and  one  from  Ken- 
18* 


210  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

dal  here.  Write,  and  fix  the  time  for  coming.  Words- 
worth, who  is  now  in  London,  will  probably  be  home  in 
about  a  fortnight,  and  both  he  and  Lloyd  (with  whom  you 
will  be  much  interested)  are  very  desirous  of  seeing  you. 

"  The  apprehensions  under  which  you  last  wrote  are  fully 
confirmed,  and  Europe  is  once  more  involved  in  war  by  the 
ambition  of  a  single  individual,  whom  I  verily  believe  to 
have  accumulated  a  heavier  load  of  guilt  upon  his  soul  than 
any  human  being  ever  did  before  him.  I  am  sorry  to  see 
the  Jacobins  act  with  him  ;  for  I  would  fain  have  believed, 
that,  with  all  their  dreadful  errors,  they  set  out  with  a 
noble  principle  ;  but  they  are  now  proving  that  their  only 
impulse  at  present  is  a  feeling  of  personal  hatred  to  the 
Bourbons,  which  Louis  XVIII.  is  far  from  deserving.  I 
look  to  the  war  with  anxiety,  but  not  with  fear ;  on  our 
part  it  is  so  just,  so  called  for  by  every  proper  feeling  and 
sound  principle,  that  nothing  can  oppose  it,  except  that  vile 
infatuation  which  has  made  a  few  persons  cling  to  Bona- 
parte through  all  his  crimes. 

"  I  thought  you  would  be  pleased  with  the  party  whom 
I  directed  to  you  in  the  autumn.  .  .  .  The  sale  of '  Roderick » 
has  exceeded  my  expectations ;  a  third  edition  is  going  to 
press.  I  have  seen  no  review  of  it,  but  can  perceive  more 
faults  than  the  most  malicious  critic  will  point  out ;  and  I 
have  a  happy  indifference  to  criticism,  which  proceeds,  I 
suppose,  as  much  from  temperament  as  philosophy.  Write 
and  tell  me  when  you  will  come.  Remember  me  to  Mr. 
Gilbert  when  you  see  him.  I  shall  rejoice  to  see  him  again. 
God  bless  you." 

Twenty  years  having  elapsed  since  the  flight  of  Mr. 
Gales  to  the  United  States,  Sarah,  the  younger  of  his  three 
sisters,  decided  to  cross  the  waters  and  visit  her  brother  at 
Washington. 


DENUNCIATION    OF    LOTTERIES.  211 

Montgomery  accompanied  her  to  Liverpool,  and  on  being 
asked,  after  her  departure,  how  he  felt,  replied,  "As  happy 
as  despair  can  make  me."  The  answer  suggested  a  love 
beyond  a  brother's,  —  yet  it  is  believed  nothing  existed  but 
the  most  cordial  fraternal  affection ;  and,  as  brother  and 
sister  they  formed  a  pleasant  household  until  death  di- 
vided them. 

An  increasing  serenity  we  perceive  stealing  over  his 
mind.  Called  to  feel  some  pecuniary  embarrassment,  in 
consequence  of  an  unfaithful  partner,  he  tells  us :  "  Any 
suffering,  of  mind  or  body,  I  have  long  ago  learnt  is  pref- 
erable to  the  anguish  of  a  wounded  conscience ;  and,  while 
I  can  keep  myself  clear  of  this  evil  in  secular  affairs,  I 
ought  to  bear  any  other  affliction  with  patience,  yea,  with 
grateful  resignation  to  the  will  of  Him  who  is  wiser,  and 
better,  and  kinder  than  any  earthly  friend  could  be  to  me, 
and  therefore  to  whom,  and  to  whose  disposal,  I  may  with 
confidence  entrust  all  that  I  have,  and  all  that  I  am." 

No  man,  indeed,  was  more  prompt  to  sacrifice  pecuniary 
considerations  to  moral  conviction,  when  they  were  in  con- 
flict, than  Montgomery. 

That  the  lottery  system  was  nothing  more  or  less  than 
legalized  gambling,  had  already  forced  itself  upon  thinking 
men,  and  Montgomery,  as  we  have  seen,  had  himself  re- 
linquished the  sale  of  tickets  at  his  office.  But  this  was 
only  cutting  off  the  left  hand  of  a  profitable  sin,  while  with 
the  right  he  was  still  accepting  the  hire  of  iniquity.  The 
best  support  of  the  Iris  accrued  from  lottery  advertise- 
ments; indeed  it  might  seem  questionable  if  the  paper 
could  be  maintained  at  all  without  the  generous  pay  which 
came  in  from  this  source. 

Mr.  Roberts  had  long  waged  war  upon  this  evil,  and 
being   now  determined  to   attack   the  state  lottery,  a  re- 


212  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

venue  recruiting  business,  he  was  anxious  to  enlist  the  Iris 
fully  in  the  cause.  The  glaring  inconsistency  of  such  a 
course,  its  editor  keenly  felt.  "  Renounce  all  connection 
with  the  accursed  thing !"  exclaimed  his  friend. 

"  The  counsel  was  hard  to  a  person  in  my  circumstances," 
the  poor  editor  tells  us ;  "  conscience  and  cupidity  had  a 
sharp  conflict ;  but  the  battle  was  not  a  drawn  one ;  the 
better  principle  prevailed,  and  after  the  autumn  of  1816,  I 
never  admitted  another  lottery  advertisement  into  my  paper. 
Nor  did  I  ever  for  one  moment  repent  the  sacrifice." 

Thus  unfettered,  the  Iris  took  a  leading  stand  in  holding 
up  the  system  to  public  reprobation.  Both  pamphlets  and 
poetry  issued  from  his  press,  aimed  chiefly  against  those 
ministers  and  their  supporters  in  Parliament  who  persisted 
in  resorting  to  this  means  for  raising  public  money.  Mr. 
Roberts  wrote  a  satirical  poem,  and  Montgomery  Some 
Thoughts  on  Wlieels,  both  of  which  had  the  celebrity  of 
fitness  at  the  time.  A  petition  to  Parliament  from  Shef- 
field was  also  gotten  up  through  their  influence ;  and  their 
indefatigable  zeal  contributed  much  towards  the  removal 
of  the  "  greatest  plague  that  ever  infested  the  country  in 
the  shape  of  a  tax  upon  the  poverty,  the  morals,  and  the 
happiness  of  the  people." 

The  state  lottery  was  relinquished  in  1824. 

As  for  the  Iris,  we  do  not  learn  that  its  existence  was  at 
all  jeopardized  by  its  manliness.  Not  the  first  or  last  in- 
stance, when  taking  counsel  of  our  conscience  has  proved 
better  than  our  fears. 

In  1818,  great  destitution  prevailed  among  the  Mora- 
vian missions  in  Greenland,  which  called  forth  an  earnest 
appeal  in  their  behalf  in  the  columns  of  the  Iris.  The 
working  missionaries  of  this  inhospitable  country,  if  they 
endured  severe  privations  for  the  Gospel's  sake,  reaped 


THE    GREENLAND    MISSIONS.  213 

also  a  precious  harvest  from  its  icy.  slopes.  The  simple 
piety  of  the  Greenlanders  makes  a  shining  record  in  the 
annals  of  the  church.  Although  there  were  no  Moravian 
congregations  in  or  around  the  immediate  vicinity  of  Shef- 
field, there  were  warm  Christian  hearts  which  responded 
to  Montgomery's  call,  and  in  a  few  weeks  nearly  £130, 
with  a  great  variety  of  clothing  and  other  useful  articles, 
flowed  into  his  hands. 

"  These  gifts,"  said  he,  "have  been  altogether  voluntary, 
in  the  best  sense  of  the  term.  The  purest  produce  of  the 
olive  is  the  oil  which  distills  freely  from  the  gentlest  press- 
ure of  its  fruit ;  the  most  precious  juice  of  the  grape  is  that 
which  flows  from  the  thick  cluster,  heaped  abundantly 
together,  without  any  other  compulsion  than  their  own  ripe 
weight  and  bursting  fulness.  The  wine  and  oil  which  the 
'  dear  English  people*  have  thus  poured  into  the  wounds  of 
the  poor  Greenlanders,  perishing  by  the  way-side,  are  the 
purest  and  most  precious  of  their  kind." 

"  Thank  you  for  the  Iris,"  writes  Southey.  "  I  enclose  a 
one  pound  bill  (more  according  to  my  means  than  my  will) 
for  the  poor  Greenlanders,  and  I  will  endeavor  to  do  them 
better  service  by  sketching  —  if  I  am  permitted  —  a  history 
of  the  mission  in  the  Quarterly  Review.  I  have  Egede  and 
Crantz  at  hand,  and  will  write  for  the  periodical  accounts. 
I  have  frequent  cause  to  regret  that  the  first  volumes  of 
these  most  interesting  records  are  not  to  be  j^rocured. 

"  It  is  very  long  since  I  have  written  you ;  forgive 
me  and  tell  me  so  soon.  I  am  closely  employed,  and, 
as  usual,  upon  many  things.  A  work  which  interests  me 
greatly  at  present  is  the  *  Life  of  Wesley,'  upon  such  a 
scale  as  to  comprise  the  history  of  Methodism  abroad  and 
at  home,  with  no  inconsiderable  part  of  the  religious  his- 
tory of  this  country  for  the  last  hundred  years.    You  know 


214  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

enough  of  my  intellectual  habits  to  know  my  love  of  pur- 
suing a  subject  in  its  ramifications.  Just  at  this  time  I  am 
drawing  up  a  succinct  account  of  the  origin  and  economy 
of  the  establishment  of  Herrnhut  —  a  necessary  part  of  that 
chapter  which  is  entitled  '  Wesley  in  Germany.'  N"o  part 
of  Wesley's  conduct  is  so  little  creditable  to  him  as  that 
which  relates  to  the  Moravians.  At  first  he  submitted 
himself  to  them  in  a  manner  unworthy  of  his  understand- 
ing —  as  in  the  affair  of  his  intended  marriage  with  Sophia 
Cowston  ;  and  still  more  with  regard  to  William  Law ;  and 
when  he  separated  from  them,  he  did  not  for  a  long  time 
render  them  common  justice ;  but  even  in  some  degree 
sanctioned  the  abominable  calumnies  with  which  they  were 
assailed.  He  became  wiser  and  more  charitable  as  he  grew 
older.  I  have  traced  the  progress  of  his  mind  with  great 
care  throughout  his  writings :  he  outgrew  all  his  extrav- 
agances ;  but  it  was  not  easy  to  disown  them  all. 

"  Is  there  no  hope  of  tempting  you  into  this  country  ? 
Spring  is  coming  on,  and  you  would  render  me  a  bodily 
service  by  drawing  me  away  from  the  desk  and  the  fire- 
side to  the  mountain  valleys  and  the  hill-tops.  I  am  not  a 
man  to  make  insincere  professions:  it  would  give  me  a 
heartfelt  pleasure  to  see  you  here.  The  Leeds  coach  runs 
to  Kendal,  and  from  Kendal  there  is  a  morning  stage 
every  day  to  Keswick.  Come  and  see  me,  Montgomery, 
that  we  may  talk  together  of  this  world  and  the  next." 

Montgomery's  present  interest  in  behalf  of  the  mission 
quickened  into  life  the  long  dormant  plan  of  a  poem, 
located  in  those  ice-bound  regions;  and  in  the  spring  of 
1819  appeared  Greenland,  emphatically  a  missionary  poem, 
embalming  the  memory  of  the  devoted  men  who 

"  Planted  successfully  sweet  Sharon's  rose 
On  icy  plains  and  in  eternal  snows." 


LITERARY    PROFITS.  215 

"  There  never  was  an  age,"  he  says,  "  in  which  more 
good  poetry  was  written  than  the  present,  or  in  which 
poetical  talent  was  better  rewarded  by  its  true  patrons, 
the  readers  of  poetry ;  but  this  very  circumstance  renders 
it  exceedingly  difficult  to  command  attention  and  secure 
admiration.  Byron  and  Moore  —  to  say  nothing  of  Scott, 
Wordsworth  and  Campbell  —  carry  all  before  them  ;  and 
I  am  not  disposed  to  quarrel  with  them  or  the  public  that 
I  am  left  so  far  behind  in  talent  and  popularity  ;  though  I 
cannot  read  the  works  of  either  without  lamenting  the 
general  character  of  their  poetry.  If  they  are  always  as 
beautiful,  they  are  sometimes  as  terrible,  as  the  serpent 
that  beguiled  Eve.  Byron,  indeed,  is  no  man,  as  men  are 
now-a-days  —  he  is  one  of  Nature's  prodigious  births ;  and 
more  original,  powerful,  and  sweet,  with  all  his  wildness 
and  barbarism,  and  dissonance,  than  all  his  living  brethren 
put  together  ;  and  among  the  dead  I  can  find  nothing  like 
him,  though  a  few  may  be  equal,  or  superior,  taking  them 
all  in  all." 

Montgomery  certainly  had  no  reason  to  be  dissatisfied 
with  his  share  of  literary  profit ;  for  we  learn  up  to  this 
time  that,  besides  owning  the  copyright  of  his  poems,  he 
had  received  £1,600  from  Longman  &  Co.,  with  good 
reason  to  expect  that  his  new  volume  would  in  two  years 
yield  him  from  £300  to  £400,  and  £100  yearly  for  some 
time  afterwards. 

"Weeks,  months,  and  years  pass  by,  filled  with  wholesome 
industries.  Editor  and  author,  an  active  citizen,  ready  to 
interest  himself  in  everything  which  can  promote  the  wel- 
fare of  his  town  ;  a  judicious  friend  to  the  poor ;  an  earnest 
co-laborer  in  many  of  the  beneficial  enterprises  of  the  day, 
his  life  was  one  of  increasing  usefulness  and  happiness. 

Sanatory  reforms  he  bravely  battled  for ;  public  events 


216  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

he  impartially  noticed  ;  while  all  along  his  path  little  poems, 
like  way-side  flowers,  are  springing,  commemorative  of  the 
loves,  and  joys,  and  falling  tears  which  meet  him  on  the 
road. 

Writing  to  his  brother  Ignatius,  he  says : 

"  At  this  time  of  the  year  I  am  full  of  employment  with 
Bible,  Missionary,  Tract,  and  Sunday-school  Societies, 
which  seem  rather  to  belong  to  a  minister  of  the  Gospel 
than  a  printer  and  a  poet :  my  tongue  and  my  pen  have 
continual  engagements  to  meet.  I  feel  at  home  and  happy 
in  the  work,  though  frequently  the  flesh  is  weak  when  the 
spirit  is  most  willing;  and  whatever  temptations  I  may 
have  to  vanity,  —  and  with  such  I  am  surrounded,  —  be- 
sides the  traitor  within  my  bosom,  like  Satan  at  the  ear  of 
Eve,  sometimes  suggesting  presumptuous  and  sometimes 
desponding  thoughts  of  myself,  I  have  trials  and  experience 
both  from  without  and  within  enough  to  humble  me  every 
day,  and  every  hour  of  every  day,  especially  when  I  am  in 
most  danger  of  growing  giddy  and  proud.  In  Passion 
week  I  went  to  Fulneck,  and  enjoyed  the  holy  communion 
on  the  anniversary  of  that  night  on  which  our  Lord  was 
betrayed.  It  was  a  blessed  season,  because  it  was  a  heart- 
searching  one;  Good  Friday  also  was  made  exceedingly 
sweet  and  solemn  to  my  soul,  though  I  staggered  some- 
times in  bearing  the  cross  up  the  rugged  steep  of  Calvary ; 
but  I  was  borne  up  by  the  right  hand  of  Him  whom  I  ac- 
companied there." 

He  seemed,  indeed,  striving  to  carry  out  the  spirit  of  his 
soul-stirring  hymn : 

"  Sow  in  the  morn  thy  seed, 
At  eve  hold  not  thy  hand ; 
To  doubt  and  fear  give  thou  no  heed, 
Broad-cast  it  o'er  the  land. 


DEATH    OF   ELIZABETH    GALES.  217 

"Beside  all  waters  sow, 

The  highway  furrows  stock ; 
Drop  it  where  thorns  and  thistles  grow, 
Scatter  it  on  the  rock." 

In  February,  1821,  occurred  the  first  breach  in  the  family 
circle,  of  which,  for  thirty  years,  he  had  formed  a  part. 
Elizabeth  Gales  was  not,  for  God  took  her.  "  Soft  be  the 
turf  on  thy  dear  breast,"  is  the  mournful  plaint  of  the  poet- 
brother.  But  affection,  winging  beyond  and  above  the 
grave,  exclaims: 

"  No  —  live  while  those  who  love  thee  live, 

The  sainted  sister  of  our  heart; 
And  thought  to  thee  a  form  shall  give 

Of  all  thou  wast,  and  all  thou  art :  — 
Of  all  thou  mast,  when  from  thine  eyes 

The  latest  beams  of  kindness  shone ; 
Of  all  thou  art,  when  faith  descries 

Thy  spirit  bowed  before  the  throne." 

"  This  day  I  have  experienced  another  bereavement,"  he 
writes  to  a  friend.  "  My  dear  and  honored  friend,  Mr. 
George  Bennett,  left  Sheffield,  on  his  proposed  visit  to  Ota- 
heite  and  other  islands  in  the  South  Seas,  whence,  if  re- 
stored to  us,  he  cannot  be  expected  to  return  in  less  than 
four  or  five  years  at  the  earliest.  What  may  happen  to 
him  or  to  us  in  that  long  period  —  long  to  look  forward, 
though  but  like  as  many  days  to  look  backward  —  who  can 
foresee,  when  we  know  not  what  an  hour  may  bring  forth  ? 
To  be  prepared  at  every  moment  to  meet  our  God  is  man's 
highest  wisdom.  May  He  in  whose  hands  are  the  hearts 
of  all  men,  so  rule  and  influence  ours,  that  we  all,  whether 

at  Scarborough,  at  Sheffield,  or  at  Otaheitc,  may  be  found, 
19 


218  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

when  He  comes,  watching  unto  prayer !  Then  shall  it  be 
well  with  us  here,  and  well  with  us  hereafter." 

The  London  Missionary  Society,  now  nearly  twenty-five 
years  in  vigorous  operation,  wished  to  send  a  deputation 
to  visit  their  more  important  stations,  particularly  those 
anion  2:  the  South  Sea  Islands.  Fit  men  for  such  an  em- 
bassy,  the  directors  had  long  been  seeking.  At  length, 
George  Bennett,  Esq.,  Montgomery's  intimate  friend,  of- 
fered his  services,  which  were  gladly  accepted,  and  with 
him  was  associated  Rev.  Daniel  Tyreman,  minister  of  an 
Independent  Chapel  in  the  Isle  of  Wight. 

Montgomery's  "  one  word  of  advice "  on  the  occasion, 
so  seasonable  to  nip  in  the  bud  too  sanguine  hopes,  with 
their  bitter  fruit,  we  let  drop  on  these  pages : 

"Be  determined,  my  friend,  through  grace,  not  to  be 
offended  at  small  things,  and  not  to  despise  small  things. 
Remember  that  you  are  not  going  to  build,  but  to  plant. 
Do  not  expect  then  to  see  great  effects  produced  under 
your  eye." 

The  departure  of  his  friend  from  Sheffield  deeply  affected 
him,  and  the  susceptibility  of  his  soul  for  the  tenderest 
emotions  of  friendship  are  affectingly  revealed  in  the  fol- 
lowing letter: 

"  Fulneek,  near  Leeds,  April  2,  1821. 
"My  Dear  Fkiend, 

"  I  w^rite  to  you  from  this  place,  lest  I  should  have 
no  other  opportunity  of  communicating  with  you  before 
you  leave  this  country.  I  must,  however,  be  brief.  Your 
affectionate  letter,  wTritten  on  the  Friday  after  you  left 
Sheffield,  did  not  reach  me  till  last  Wednesday.  Into 
all  your  painful  yet  transporting  feelings  on  quitting  the 
place  of  your  birth,  and  where  the   Lord   for   so  many 


LETTER   TO    MR.    BENNETT.  219 

years  both  blessed  you  and  made  you  a  blessing,  I  en- 
tered with  deep  and  lively  emotion.  Of  all  who  have 
suffered  loss,  and  loss  not  soon  to  be  replaced,  by  your 
departure,  mine  must  be  the  greatest  bereavement,  so  far 
as  refers  to  the  intercommunion  of  personal  friendship, 
and,  on  my  part,  the  frequent  and  inestimable  tokens  of 
kindness  which  you  were  wont  to  bestow  upon  me,  un- 
worthy as  I  may  have  been  of  your  distinguishing  favor, 
and  little  as  it  was  in  my  power  to  offer  in  return,  except 
the  grateful  acceptance  of  your  good  offices.  The  Lord, 
who  put  it  into  your  heart  and  your  power  thus  to  be- 
nefit me,  Himself  reward  you  for  having  been,  in  this 
respect  at  least,  a  faithful  steward  of  what  He  committed 
to  you  for  my  profit.  He  now  sends  you  forth  to  his 
servants  among  the  heathen,  —  yea,  to  the  heathen  them- 
selves, —  with  your  hands  laden,  with  the  fruits  of  his  love 
in  your  heart,  to  dispense  to  them,  as  you  have  done  to 
me  and  thousands  in  this  land,  his  own  gifts.  May  He 
keep  you  as  diligent  and  upright,  and  humble  and  per- 
severing, with  all  faith,  and  hope,  and  charity,  whither 
you  are  going,  as  where  you  have  been !  and  may  not 
only  the  living  in  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth,  but 
generations  unborn,  rise  up  to  call  you  blessed  —  blessed 
of  the  Lord,  —  for  to  Him  give  all  the  glory! — with  as 
much  reason  as  I  do  at  this  day,  and  as  I  shall  do  when 
I  meet  you  at  the  judgment  seat  of  Christ !  Meet  you 
there!  Yes,  indeed,  there  we  shall  meet;  may  it  be  on 
his  right  hand, — or,  if  I  fail,  there  may  we  be  parted 
for  ever,  and  you  go  into  life  eternal !  But  of  such  a 
separation  who  can  think  without  fear  and  trembling? 
It  need  not  be,  I  know  it  need  not  be ;  then  daily  let  us 
pray  that  it  may  not  be.  The  text  which  I  twice  opened 
at  "YV incobank,  when  we  were  last  there,  often  recurs  to 


220  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

my  mind  :  — ( Watch,  therefore,  and  pray  always,  that  ye 
may  be  accounted  worthy  to  escape  those  things  that 
shall  come  to  pass,  and  to  stand  before  the  Son  of  Man ! ' 
Let  this  text  be  a  mutual  watchword  between  you  and 
me ;  let  us  often  meet  in  this  passage  of  Scripture,  and, 
as  disciples  of  the  Lord  Jesus,  let  us  secure  this  evidence 
to  ourselves,  that  we  do  love  Him,  by  keeping  this  his 
commandment.  I  intended  that  this  letter  should  only 
be  from  my  head,  and  consist  of  a  few  dry  lines  of  remark, 
or  common-place  matters ;  but  my  heart,  which  seemed 
a  sealed-up  fountain  when  I  began,  has  broken  out  from 
its  fullness,  and  overflowed  the  greater  part  of  my  paper. 
The  communication,  busy  as  you  are,  will  not  be  less  wel- 
come on  that  account. 

"  But  I  must  notice  a  few  points  of  business.  I  have 
discharged  the  bill  at  Mr.  Carver's :  he  expressed  himself 
very  kindly  respecting  you ;  and,  indeed,  the  very  bricks 
in  the  walls,  and  the  stones  in  the  streets  of  Sheffield  seem 
affected  by  your  removal,  and  wish  you  well,  —  or  would 
do  so,  if  they  could  wish  anything," 

On  May  22d,  1821,  the  deputation  sailed  from  Graves- 
end,  in  a  South  Sea  whaler,  for  their  long  and  responsi- 
ble voyage  round  the  world.  Montgomery  expresses  his 
mingled  emotions  to  his  friend  in  verse,  the  key-note  of 
which  is  : 

"  There  is  a  feeling  in  the  heart, 
That  will  not  let  thee  go  ; 
Yet  go  —  thy  spirit  stays  with  me  ; 
Yet  go  —  my  spirit  goes  with  thee." 

Chronicling  events  from  his  own  pen,  he  writes  to  a  dear 
niece  who  visited  him  : 


LETTER    TO    BENNETT.  221 

"  By  the  return  of  Miss  Gales,  our  family  is,  as  it  must 
be  a  little  while  longer  ;  and  unless  you  return,  or  Harriet 
comes,  it  is  not  likely  to  change  till  there  be  one  less,  and 
then  another,  and  then  another,  and  then  there  will  be 
none!  Long  after  that,  may  you  and  your  sister  be 
healthy,  and  happy,  and  on  your  way  to  heaven." 

Another  letter  to  his  friend  Bennett : 

"Sheffield,  June  16,  1821. 
"My  Dear  Feiend, 

"  I  do  not  know  where  this  will  meet  you,  or  when ; 
but  understanding  that  Mr.  M'Coy  will  have  an  early  op- 
portunity of  forwarding  letters  to  Port  Jackson,  I  will 
embark  on  this  sheet  of  paper  in  great  haste  I  assure  you, 
and  make  as  good  speed  as  I  can,  that  while  you  are  sail- 
ing half  round  the  world  to  the  west,  I,  by  sailing  half 
round  it  in  the  contrary  direction,  may  meet  you  on 
the  shores  of  Otaheite  —  if  not  face  to  face  —  hand  to 
hand,  and  heart  to  heart.  In  a  far  country,  the  least  thing 
th;Vt  reminds  us  of  our  own,  awakens  in  a  moment  a  thou- 
sand endeared  associations ;  and  if  home-sickness  comes 
over  the  spirit,  too  exquisitely  touched,  the  anguish  soon 
throbs  itself  into  composure,  or  is  exalted  into  '  the  joy  of 
grief.'  One  of  the  last  incidents  before  we  parted  has 
often  recurred  to  my  mind.  You  committed  to  my  care  a 
letter  which  you  had  borrowed  from  a  botanical  friend, 
and  which  had  been  written  to  him  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Carey 
of  Serampore.  In  that  letter  he  mentions  that  a  common 
field  daisy  had  unexpectedly  sprung  up  in  his  garden,  out 
of  a  quantity  of  English  earth  in  which  the  seeds  of  other 
plants  had  been  transported  to  India.  With  this  playmate 
of  his  infancy,  and  companion  of  his  youth  —  for  such  the 

daisy  is  to  all  of  us  who  have  had  the  happiness  to  be  born 
19* 


222  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

in  the  fields  of  our  native  land,  instead  of  its  cities  —  he 
had  been  so  charmed,  that  from  year  to  year  he  had 
trained  a  succession  of  seedlings  to  remind  him  of  what 
he  had  loved  and  left  at  home.  Now,  though  this  letter 
of  mine  may  be  as  insignificant  in  itself  as  a  daisy  appears 
among  millions  of  its  own  and  a  thousand  other  species  of 
flowers,  to  a  supercilious  eye  in  England,  yet  to  you  the 
handwriting  on  the  direction  I  know  will  be  as  welcome 
as  the  phenomenon  of  the  daisy  in  India  to  good  Dr. 
Carey.  I  have  little  to  say,  and  am  so  pressed  with  trou- 
bles and  duties  (the  former  grievously  aggravated  by  the 
perpetual  neglect  of  the  latter),  that  I  am  fairly  writing 
by  stealth,  from  a  crowd  of  more  importunate  obligations, 
which  are  dunning  and  mobbing  me  on  every  side.  Alas ! 
the  prodigal  of  time  —  and  the  procrastinator  is  the  great- 
est spendthrift  of  that  most  invaluable  treasure  —  must 
always  live  in  this  kind  of  tribulation.  I  am  too  old  to 
mend,  I  fear  —  nay,  I  despair  of  doing  so  —  and  yet  I  must, 
or  I  may  fail  at  last  in  what  is  of  more  importance  than  all 
the  world  to  me,  as  one  whose  day  is  far  spent,  with  whom 
the  evening  of  life  is  closing  in  deeper  shadows  every  hour, 
and  whom  the  unbroken  night  or  the  unsetting  glory  of 
eternity  will  soon  surround  forever  and  forever.  Nothing 
of  particular  interest  has  occurred  among  your  connections 
here,  except  what  we  all  expected,  but  the  inconvenience 
of  which  we  could  not  otherwise  than  by  experience  know. 
We  are  continually  reminded  of  our  bereavement  by  your 
departure :  in  the  social  circle  your  chair  is  empty ;  your 
face  is  not  seen  in  the  sanctuary,  and  at  our  public  meet- 
ings, the  place  which  you  occupied  is  filled  by  others,  but 
not  as  you  filled  it.  Repeatedly,  on  anniversary  occasions, 
you  have  been  remembered,  not  only  in  our  hearts,  but 
with  our  tongues  we  have  testified  how  sincerely  we  loved 


ANNIVERSARY    MEETINGS.  223 

you,  and  how  deeply,  for  your  own  sake,  we  deplore  your 
removal.  I  may  name  especially  —  because  you  will  be 
pleased  to  be  thereby  transported  in  spirit  to  the  scenes  in 
which  you  have  often  been  engaged  with  your  friends 
here,  in  holy  and  delightful,  as  well  as  benevolent  and  dis- 
interested service  —  the  Missionary  Union  in  Queen  street 
Chapel,  on  Easter  Monday  —  the  Old  Women's  anniversary 
in  the  Cutler's  Hall,  about  the  middle  of  May  —  the  Sun- 
day-school Union  Committees,  and  especially  the  children's 
muster  on  the  new  burial-ground  (for  the  last  time  proba- 
bly, as  the  foundations  of  a  church  are  soon  to  be  laid 
there  ;  and  the  dead,  for  ages  to  come,  are  to  be  assembled 
round  its  future  walls)  —  the  sermons  at  Carver  street, 
Queen  street,  Baptist,  and  Independent  Methodist  Chapel, 
in  the  forenoon  ;  —  but,  above  all,  in  the  teachers'  meeting 
in  the  afternoon,  on  Whit-Monday.  On  the  latter  occa- 
sion I  was  disabled.  I  meant  to  have  laid  out  my  whole 
strength,  to  supply,  as  far  as  lay  in  my  power,  the  loss  that 
would  be  felt  by  your  absence  ;  but  it  pleased  the  Lord  to 
lay  his  hand  on  me,  and  though  I  was  enabled  to  be  a  par- 
taker, I  could  scarcely  be  called  a  helper,  of  the  joy  of  our 
numerous  array  in  that  glorious  field. 

"  The  wound  that  incapacitated  me  from  taking  a  promi- 
nent part  in  the  action  had  been  received  in  the  same 
service,  however ;  and  I  '  pursued  the  triumph,  and  par- 
took the  gale,'  as  heartily  as  if  I  had  been  the  hero  of  the 
day.  On  the  Friday  evening  before  the  anniversary  I  had 
returned  from  Halifax  (where  the  West  Riding  Missionary 
Association  meeting  was  held  this  year,  and  where  you 
were  remembered  in  almost  every  speech),  much  exhausted 
in  body,  and  laboring  under  indisposition  beside  ;  however, 
being  willing  in  spirit,  I  went  down  to  the  committee  [of 
S.  S.  U.]  and  read  —  what  indeed  nobody  else  could  have 


224  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

read  —  the  report  at  length,  compiled  from  matter  trans- 
mitted by  the  town  and  country  schools.  This  brought 
on  a  violent  inflammation  of  the  throat ;  but  I  was  again 
delivered  from  the  miseries  of  a  quinsy  by  the  application 
of  leeches  to  the  part  externally,  as  I  had  been  saved  in 
like  maimer  a  few  months  before.  However,  such  were  the 
zeal  and  love  to  the  cause  displayed  by  your  old  associates, 
that  neither  the  lack  of  your  service  nor  mine  was  felt, 
otherwise  than  by  the  kindness  and  partiality  of  friendship, 
to  be  any  drawback  from  the  enjoyment  of  the  day.  I 
don't  remember,  since  the  first,  a  more  animated  meeting 
of  the  Union.  A  resolution  shall  be  transmitted  to  you, 
in  which,  beside  a  vote  of  cordial  thanks  for  your  past 
services,  you  are  requested  to  allow  your  name  to  be  re- 
corded among  us  as  patron  for  life  of  the  S.  S.  Union.  I 
ought  not  to  forget  that  our  friend,  Mr.  R.  Hodgson,  at 
the  Church  Missionary  meeting  held  in  the  chancel  of 
Rotherham  Church  a  few  days  ago,  made  mention  of  you 
and  your  mission  in  such  terms  as  delighted  and  affected 
many  —  or  rather  all  —  who  were  then  present,  and  excited 
Christian  sympathy  in  no  ordinary  degree  in  the  bosoms 
of  Churchmen,  Methodists,  and  Dissenters,  of  whom  the 
assembly  was  composed.  At  the  Hathersage  Bible  Asso- 
ciation, on  Wednesday,  I  had  an  opportunity  of  pronounc- 
ing your  name  in  ears  to  which  it  was  exceedingly  agree- 
able, but  which  would  have  been  much  better  pleased  to 
have  heard  your  voice.  But  I  must  close  this  recapitula- 
tion. 

"  I  know  of  no  mortal  change  among  your  friends  here, 
though  you  must  look  henceforth  for  the  record  of  one 
or  another  such  in  every  future  epistle  from  your  cor- 
respondents on  this  side  of  the  mighty  waters.  We  shall 
never  all  meet  again  as  we  were  wont  in  this  world ;  but 


ORIGIN    OF    "THE    DAISY    IN    INDIA."  225 

there  are  seats  prepared  for  us  at  that  table  to  which  the 
redeemed  shall  come  from  the  east  and  the  west,  the  north 
and  the  south,  and  sit  down  with  Abraham,  and  Isaac,  and 
Jacob.  Ah !  then,  may  none  of  us  be  thrust  out ;  nor  need 
we,  unless  we  exclude  ourselves.  I  duly  received  your 
letter  from  the  Isle  of  Wight ;  and  we  heard  of  your  set- 
ting sail.    The  Lord  be  with  you." 

The  letter  of  Dr.  Carey,  one  of  the  first  Baptist  mission- 
aries to  India,  here  referred  to,  contained  an  interesting 
paragraph  which  touched  the  poet's  heart,  and  originated 
one  of  his  most  charming  little  poems,  The  Daisy  in  India. 

"  That  I  might  be  sure,"  ran  the  paragraph,  "  not  to 
lose  any  part  of  your  valuable  present,  I  shook  the  bag 
over  a  patch  of  earth  in  a  shady  place :  on  visiting  which, 
a  few  days  afterwards j  I  found  springing  up,  to  my  in- 
expressible delight,  a  bellis  perennis  of  our  English  past- 
ures. I  know  not  that  I  ever  enjoyed,  since  leaving 
Europe,  a  simple  pleasure  so  exquisite  as  the  sight  of 
this  English  daisy  afforded  me ;  not  having  seen  one  for 
upwards  of  thirty  years,  and  never  expecting  to  see  one 
again." 

TJie  Daisy  in  India  revives  the  memory  of  early  days, 
when  scrap-books  and  albums  caught  up  the  little  voyager 
to  our  shores,  and  when, 

"  Thrice  welcome,  little  English  flower," 

had  an  unspeakable  charm,  even  to  the  ear  and  heart  of 
childhood. 

Following  along  in  his  path,  we  find  him  among  the 
group  at  the  laying  of  the  corner-stone  of  a  new  church  at 
AttercliiFc,  with  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  Earl  Fitzwilliam, 


226  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

and  Earl  of  Surrey,  the  strains  of  his  hymn  expressing 
the  devout  utterances  of  the  occasion. 

Again,  we  hear  him  in  Cutler's  Hall  advocating  a  liter- 
ary association  in  his  adopted  town. 

And  now  he  is  at  a  meeting  of  the  "Wesley an  Tract 
Society,  paying  affectionate  tribute  to  the  memory  of  a 
humble  brother : 

"  The  monthly  meetings  of  the  committee  of  this  Tract 
Society,  which  were  originally  held  at  six  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  were  the  first  private  religious  parties  I  ever  ven- 
tured to  unite  with  in  Sheffield  :  but  in  them,  I  declare,  in 
the  presence  of  this  assembly,  I  enjoyed  the  purest  and 
most  spiritual  intercourse  which  I  ever  experienced  among 
my  fellow-men.  For  the  sake  of  being  present,  I  —  who 
am  so  infirm,  and  constitutionally  indolent  —  have  many  a 
time  left  my  warm  bed  on  a  cold  winter's  morning :  but 
let  the  weather  be  as  cold  as  it  would,  our  hearts  were 
sure  to  be  warmed  in  the  meeting.  It  was  there,  in  that 
corner  [pointing  to  a  particular  part  of  the  chapel,  then 
boarded  off  as  a  vestry]  I  first  saw  Samuel  Hill.  He  was 
at  that  time  a  very  poor  man  —  so  poor,  indeed,  that  I 
recollect  he  could  not  always  afford  to  pay  his  subscrip- 
tion of  six  shillings  a  year;  but  he  was  rich  in  faith,  ripe 
in  religious  experience,  and  mighty  in  prayer :  I  declare 
before  you  all,  that  I  never  stood  in  the  presence  of  any 
man  with  such  trembling  as  I  used  to  feel  beside  that 
humble  individual.  Good  God,  I  thought,  Thou  hast 
given  to  that  man,  perhaps,  only  one  talent;  but  how 
does  he  use  it !  Surely,  the  responsibility  of  some  of  us, 
who  believe  ourselves  more  largely  endowed,  but  are  not 
bringing  forth  even  similar  fruits,  will  be  awful  indeed." 

"  I  have  too  much  upon  my  mind  to  do  anything  well,'* 
he  writes   to  Aston,  "  or,   indeed,   anything  in  the   right 


FIRST    MEETING    WITH    SOUTHEY.  227 

time,  which  is  half  of  well-doing  at  least.  You  may  think 
that  I  forget  you,  because  I  so  seldom  tell  you  on  paper 
that  I  remember  you  both  with  gratitude  and  esteem  for 
many  kindnesses  shown  to  me,  especially  in  former  days : 
but  the  truth  is,  that  my  letter-writing  age  is  gone  by  — 
never  to  return,  unless  youth,  the  season  for  correspondence, 
comes  back  again.  That,  however,  cannot  be  ;  childhood, 
I  believe,  does  sometimes  pay  a  second  visit  to  man^ — 
youth  never.  The  heart,  however,  when  it  is  right,  is  al- 
ways young,  and  knows  neither  decay  nor  coolness ;  I  can- 
not boast  of  mine  in  other  respects ;  but  assuredly,  in  the 
integrity  of  its  affections  it  has  not  grown  a  moment  older 
these  five-and-twenty  years. 

In  November,  1822,  Southey,  on  a  visit  to  Doncaster 
with  his  daughter,  made  a  flying  call  at  Sheffield,  and  sent 
for  Montgomery  to  meet  him  at  the  Tontine.  It  was  their 
first  meeting,  and  cordial  and  heart-warming  we  believe  it 
was,  as  became  two  frank  and  generous  natures.  Ebenezer 
Elliot  was  also  there,  and  Mr.  Everett,  Southey's  old  an- 
tagonist in  his  Methodist  controversy.  "We  cannot  help 
wishing  something  more  was  left  of  the  interview  than 
its  simple  record. 

He  again  writes  Mr.  Bennett : 

"Sheffield,  February  6,  1823. 
"My  Dear  Friend, 

"  I  have  only  as  much  time  as  I  can  hold  in  my  hand, 
while  it  evaporates  like  ether,  to  say  to  you,  as  I  do  with 
my  whole  heart,  '  The  Lord  bless,  and  preserve,  and  bring 
you  home  again !'  Mr.  Rowland  Hodgson,  I  understand, 
has  written  to  you  from  Devonshire ;  I  have  nothing  to 
enclose  from  any  of  your  friends  here,  but  what  I  may 
send,  even  without  asking  their  leave  to  do  so,  —  their  best 


228  LIFE   OF   MONTGOMERY. 

wishes  and  prayers  for  yon,  all  in  consonance  with  what  I 
have  already  expressed  on  my  own  part.  I  seem  to  follow 
yon  time  after  time,  and  letter  by  letter,  as  if  yon  were 
going  further  and  further  from  me,  and  rather  advancing 
on  a  mission  through  the  solar  system,  than  located  for 
awhile  at  the  antipodes.  I  am  always  glad  to  hear  of 
you,  from  whatever  quarter  the  intelligence  may  come ; 
but  I  cannot  help  also  desiring  to  hear  from  you  once,  at 
least,  while  you  sojourn  at  the  'green  earth's  remotest 
verge.'  Can  you  believe  it  yourself,  that  I  have  never 
received  a  line  nor  a  word  from  you  since  you  passed 
the  equator  ?  You  did  not  plunge  my  memory  into  the 
fathomless  abyss  there,  nor  leave  it  on  this  side,  because 
yon  have  mentioned  my  name  with  all  your  wonted  kind- 
ness to  some  of  our  mutual  friends.  Of  this  I  will  not 
complain;  —  it  basso  happened;  but  I  cannot  help  some- 
times repining  a  little  that  it  has  not  happened  otherwise. 
I  am  sure  I  have  not  been  neglectful  of  you ;  this  must 
be  the  fifth  packet,  as  well  as  I  can  recollect,  which  I  have 
despatched  to  you  by  one  conveyance  or  another,  with 
about  as  much  hope  of  some  of  them  reaching  you,  as  if  I 
had  thrown  so  many  bottles  into  the  sea,  and  left  them 
there  to  find  their  way  by  the  drifting  of  currents  to  your 
Pacific  islands.  You  will  see  by  one  of  the  pamphlets 
which  I  enclose,  that  we  have  just  established  a  Literary 
and  Philosophical  Society  in  Sheffield.  Pray  remember 
this;  and  when  you  pick  up  a  pebble  or  a  weed  worth 
presenting,  do  send  it.  We  have  just  heard  that  you  are 
recovered  from  the  illness  that  afflicted  you  this  time  last 
year.    Again,  I  say  —  God  bless  and  keep  you  !" 


MORE    ANTIPODAL     CORRESPONDENCE.        229 

Agaiu : 

"Sheffield,  March  26,  1823. 

"My  Dear  Friend, 

"  I  once  more  send  a  line  of  remembrance  and  affec- 
tion to  you,  and  I  can  do  no  more  at  present.  Five  times, 
at  least,  have  I  forwarded  parcels  by  various  opportunities  ; 
and  such  is  the  uncertainty  or  the  delay  of  communications 
to  the  South  Seas,  that  it  seems,  by  your  last  letter  to  Mr. 
Hodgson  from  the  Sandwich  Islands,  that  you  had  not 
received  one  of  these  in  August  last.  Long  before  now, 
I  hope  that  on  your  return  to  Tahiti  you  would  meet 
with  a  month's  reading  almost  from  Sheffield  alone,  which 
must  have  accumulated  there  during  your  absence,  if  no 
miscarriage  has  taken  place  in  our  addresses  to  you.  I 
fear  that  yours  to  us  have  not  been  so  fortunate.  Neither 
Mr.  Boden,  Mr.  Thomas,  Mr.  Read,  nor  myself,  have  heard 
from  you  since  June,  1821.  Miss  Ball  did  receive  a  letter 
from  you  some  time  ago ;  but  no  member  of  the  three 
families  above  named  have  been  so  favored  yet.  Your 
letters,  however,  become  common  property  in  your  long 
absence,  and  they  travel  about  from  eye  to  eye,  and  heart 
to  heart,  making  all  glad  on  account  of  your  zeal,  and  love, 
and  faith,  and  labor  in  the  Lord's  cause,  and  the  kind  re- 
membrances which  each  of  us  in  our  turn  see  in  your  own 
handwriting  to  those  who  are  happy  enough  to  receive 
letters  addressed  to  themselves.  We  begin  to  think  that 
your  heart  and  eye  must  be  often  turned  homeward  ;  and 
though  we  would  not  welcome  you  hither,  even  if  it  de- 
pended on  our  decision,  one  moment  before  you  have 
finished  the  work  which,  treacling  in  the  steps  of  your  Re- 
deemer, your  heavenly  Father  has  given  you  to  do,  yet  we 
would  not  have  vou  detained  one  moment  longer  than  that 

consummation.     Farewell !  probably  the  last  time  before 
20 


230  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

your  return,  for  how  are  we  to  follow  your  wanderings  by 
sea  and  land,  when  you  leave  the  South  Seas,  if  you  re- 
turn by  the  East  Indies,  making  missionary  visits  there  ? 
Misses  Gales  send  kind,  regards." 

Asrain  he  writes  in  a  letter  a  few  months  later : 

"  Our  inestimable  friend,  Mr.  Rowland  Hodgson,  has 
had  another  sharp  visitation  of  his  inveterate  complaint, 
which  has  obliged  him  to  retire  to  the  south  of  England 
for  the  winter.  He  has,  indeed,  been  rendered  back  to  us 
from  the  gate  of  death  so  frequently,  that  we  may  yet 
pray  with  confident  expectation,  that  goodness  and  mercy 
may  yet  follow  him  through  many  years  of  a  life  so  pre- 
cious to  his  friends,  to  the  Church,  and  to  the  world  in  our 
quarter,  as  his  has  hitherto  been.  Mr.  Roberts  holds  on 
pretty  stoutly,  and  in  his  peculiar  way  continues  to  do 
good  —  and  a  great  deal,  too,  in  one  respect ;  for,  princi- 
pally by  his  exertions,  we  have  raised  about  £320  in  a  few 
weeks  for  the  Moravian  missions." 

The  poor  chimney-sweeps  still  maintain  their  hold  on 
Mr.  Roberts,  who,  fertile  in  resources,  now  proposes  the 
publication  of  a  little  volume,  a  sort  of"  Chimney-sweepers' 
Album,"  the  first  part  to  embody  all  the  information  which 
had  been  gained  in  reference  to  their  labors,  and  the 
second,  in  prose  and  verse,  to  illustrate  their  unpitied  and 
unalleviated  sufferings. 

Montgomery  undertook  the  editorship  of  it ;  and  to  en- 
rich its  literary  department,  he  bespoke  contributions  from 
all  the  poetic  celebrities  of  the  day. 

"  Oil  for  a  muse  of  smoke  that  would  ascend 
The  highest  chimney  of  invention!" 

answers    Moore  from   Sloperton    Cottage,  "but  nothing 


THE    POETS    ON    CHIMNEY-SWEEPS.  231 

came  that  I  could  venture  to  send  you,  and  though  I 
ought  to  have  written  to  tell  you  so,  I  did  not,  and  must 
only  trust  to  your  good  nature  for  forgiveness. 

"  It  would  give  me  great  delight  to  meet  you.  There  are 
passages  of  yours  that  I  repeat  to  myself  almost  daily.  If 
ever  good  luck  should  take  me  to  Sheffield,  I  shall,  on  the 
strength  of  our  chimney-sweep  correspondence,  knock  at 
your  door." 

"  I  am  much  inclined  to  doubt,"  writes  George  Croly, 
"  whether  poetry  is  the  proper  weapon,  and  whether  a  col- 
lection of  strong  cases,  well  authenticated  and  well  told, 
prefaced  by  a  few  pages  of  the  history  and  nature  of  this 
grievance  and  disgrace  to  humanity  and  England,  would 
not  be  the  true  mode  of  influencing  the  nation,  and  through 
them  the  legislature.  I  know  that  something  of  this  kind 
has  been  done  already,  and  that  the  House  of  Lords  re- 
sisted the  measure  ;  but  it  was  on  the  alleged  ground  that 
chimneys  were  so  built  as  to  make  the  employment  of 
machinery  dangerous.  The  answer  that  we  must  give  to 
this,  is  the  production  of  machinery  that  will  clean  the 
angles  of  the  chimneys.  Until  this  be  done,  no  j:>rogress 
with  the  Lords  can  be  expected. 

"  If  I  should  find  it  in  my  power  to  assist  your  design 
in  any  form  of  this  nature,  by  urging  your  pamphlet  into 
notice,  I  shall  be  extremely  gratified.  But  I  confess  I  am 
fully  convinced  that  something  appealing  more  directly  to 
the  general  understanding  than  poetry  must  be  employed." 

Sir  Walter  Scott,  on  being  written  to,  says : 

"  Abbotsford,  near  Melrose,  January  4,  1824. 

"I  am  favored  with  your  letter,  and  should  be  most 
happy  to  do  what  would  be  agreeable  to  Mr.  Montgomery; 
but  a  veteran  in  literature,  like  a  veteran  in  arms,  loses  the 


232  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

alacrity  with  which  young  men  start  to  the  task ;  and  I 
have  been  so  long  out  of  the  habit  of  writing  poetry, 
that  my  Pegasus  has  become  very  restive.  Besides,  at 
my  best,  I  was  never  good  at  writing  occasional  verses." 

Sir  Walter,  however,  was  not  the  man  to  content  him- 
self with  a  mere  apology  for  doing  nothing ;  and  accord- 
ingly the  editor  says  in  his  preface,  that  "  he  has  con- 
tributed something  towards  this  work,  which  will  tell 
better  in  the  end  than  even  a  poem  from  his  own  inimita- 
ble pen  might  have  done."  This  was  a  description  of  the 
plan  adopted  in  the  construction  of  the  vents  of  his  then 
newly-erected  residence  at  Abbotsford,  and  by  which  he 
had  "  taken  care  that  no  such  cruelty  (as  that  exercised  in 
the  employment  of  boys)  shall  be  practised  within  its 
precincts." 

Allan  Cunningham  accompanied  a  song  characteristic 
alike  of  his  genius  and  good  nature,  with  a  letter,  in  which 
he  says : 

"  Eccleton  Street,  Pimlico,  February,  1824. 

"  That  I  wish  a  full  and  triumphant  success  to  your 
benevolent  undertaking  you  will  readily  imagine ;  and 
poetry  will  do  more  for  human  nature  in  one  hour  than  it 
has  done  for  a  century,  if  it  redeems  the  image  of  God 
from  this  profanation.  I  am  glad  of  this  opportunity  to 
tell  you  how  long  and  how  much  you  have  gratified  me 
with  your  poetry ;  and  to  assure  you  that  you  have  many, 
many  warm  admirers  among  men  who  open  books,  not  for 
the  sake  of  telling  others  what  they  think  of  them,  but  for 
the  delight  they  give  —  the  surest  proof  of  excellence." 

Bernard  Barton,  Barry  Cornwall,  Bowring,  and  three  or 
four  others,  contributed   to  the  proposed  volume,   which 


VARIOUS    OPINIONS.  233 

appeared  in  the  spring  of  1824,  under  the  title  of  Chimney- 
Suieej)ers'>  Friend  and  Climbing  Boys'*  Album,  and  was 
dedicated  to  the  Father  of  all  his  People,  King  George 
IV.,  to  whom  a  copy  was  transmitted. 

"  After  talking  with  many  literary  people,  when  in 
town,"  says  Professor  Smyth,  of  Cambridge,  "  I  am  but  con- 
firmed in  my  original  notion,  that  no  good  can  be  done  in 
the  way  in  which  it  is  proposed  to  attempt  it.  Ludicrous 
associations  have  unfortunately  got  connected  with  these 
poor  boys  ;  and  I  conceive,  with  others,  that  the  Muse  and 
the  Fine  Arts  are  more  likely  to  suffer  from  this  sort  of 
connection  with  them,  than  to  do  them  service." 

Mr.  Proctor,  however  (Barry  Cornwall),  whose  poetical 
contribution  is  one  of  the  best  in  the  volume,  remarks, 
"  I  have  dealt  plainly  with  the  subject,  although  I  don't 
know  why  soot  should  not  produce  poetical  as  well  as 
natural  flowers."  Lamb,  who  deemed  "the  subject  so 
unmanageable  in  poetry,"  communicated,  nevertheless,  a 
very  characteristic  little  poem  from  Blake's  "Songs  of 
Innocence." 

The  editor,  also,  did  his  share.  How  much  actual  good 
the  little  book  effected,  of  course  cannot  be  calculated,  but 
the  correspondence  growing  out  of  it,  afforded  Mont- 
gomery a  cheering  interlude  amid  graver  labors. 

After  repeated  attempts  to  get  Parliamentary  action  on 
the  subject,  an  act  for  the  total  discontinuance  of  the  evil 
unanimously  passed  both  Houses,  we  believe  in  1839. 

Southey  writes  at  this  time : 

"Keswick,  July  24,  1824. 
"  My  Deatc  Montgomery, 

"  You  wrote  me  a  very  kind  and  gratifying  letter  in 

November  last,  which  I  received  at  a  time  when  it  was  not 

possible  to  answer  it ;  for,  from  the  time  you  saw  me  till 
20* 


234  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMEEY. 

the  middle  of  February,  I  was  perpetually  engaged  in  trav- 
elling or  in  society.  During  that  course  of  locomotion, 
your  circular  reached  me,  and  if  I  could  have  written  any- 
thing for  your  well-intended  volume,  in  any  way  tolerable, 
you  should  have  had  it.  But  the  truth  is,  that,  from  long 
disuse,  I  have  lost  all  facility  of  writing  upon  occasional 
subjects.  These  matters  premised,  now  for  the  reason 
why  I  have  neglected  to  write  ever  since :  it  is  not  a  very 
good  one,  I  confess,  and  yet,  such  as  it  is,  it  must  be 
told.  Before  I  departed  from  London,  Longmans  sent 
me  Prose  by  a  Poet  from  an  old  Friend.  I  meant  to  read 
it  in  the  country,  but  when  I  packed  up  my  boxes  for 
exportation  thither,  by  some  accident  these  volumes  were 
left  behind.  Meanwhile,  in  daily  expectation  of  their  arri- 
val, I  have  waited  week  after  week,  not  liking  to  thank 
you  for  them  till  I  could  say  I  had  perused  them  with 
pleasure. 

"  My  heart  goes  with  you  in  your  moral  speculations. 
Such  papers  as  those  upon  Old  Women  and  Juvenile  De- 
linquency cannot  be  sent  into  the  world  without  producing 
some  good.     I  too  have  been  probing  the  wounds  of  so- 
ciety.    I  hope,  in  the   course  of  the  next  season,  to  send 
you  my  speculations  upon  its  progress  and   prospects,  in 
a  series  of  Colloquies,  to  which  I  have  prefixed  as  a  motto 
three  pregnant  words  from  St.  Bernard,  —  respice,  aspice, 
prospice.     You  may  differ  —  yet  not  I  think  materially  — 
from  some  of  the  opinions  advanced  there ;  but  the  general 
tendency  and  fundamental  principles  will  have  your  full 
concurrence.     I  want  more  order,  more  discipline,  less  lib- 
erty to  do  ill,  more  encouragement,  more  help  to  do  well. 
I  want  to  impress  both  upon  the  rulers  and  the  people  a 
sense  of  their  respective  duties ;  for  in  truth  we  have  at 
this  time  reached  a  more  critical  period  in  the  progress 


VISIT    TO    BRIDLINGTON.  235 

of  society  than  history  has  ever  before  unfolded.  The  full 
effects  of  the  discovery  of  printing  have  never  been  appre- 
hended till  now ;  the  pressure  of  population  has  never  till 
now  been  felt  in  a  Christian  country  (I  hope  you  know  that 
I  abhor  Malthus's  abominable  views)  —  the  consequences  of 
an  unlimited  and  illimitable  creation  of  wealth  have  never 
before  been  dreamt  of;  and,  to  crown  all,  there  is  even  a 
probability  that  the  art  of  war  may  be  made  so  excellently 
destructive  as  to  put  an  end  to  it.  How  I  should  like  to 
talk  with  you  upon  some  of  these  wide-branching  subjects 
among  the  mountains !" 

In  the  month  of  October  he  went  to  Bridlington.  Of 
this  visit,  we  have  a  poetical  memento  in  the  Three  Sonnets 
descriptive  of  scenes  witnessed  from  the  quay,  and  which 
appear  in  his  collected  works  under  the  title  of  A  Sea 
Piece.  They  were  considered  by  the  author  as  the  best 
original  poems  in  this  form  which  he  ever  wrote.  It  may 
be  interesting  to  mention,  as  illustrative  of  Montgomery's 
habit  of  composing  while  travelling,  that  the  whole  of  these 
sonnets,  with  the  exception  of  about  six  lines  of  the  first, 
were  written  on  the  road  between  Bridlington  and  York. 
December  16,  1824,  he  writes  to  Mr.  Bennett: 
"  This  packet  will  be  tenfold  welcome,  because  it  con- 
tains remembrances  from  many  quarters.  Your  letters, 
dated  from  on  board  the  vessel  which  I  hope  has  long  ere 
now  landed  you  in  New  South  Wales,  were  lately  received, 
and,  brief  as  they  were,  none  that  ever  reached  us  from 
the  other  side  of  the  world,  even  under  your  hand  and 
seal,  were  more  gratefully  welcomed,  because  the  '  hope 
deferred,'  till  'the  heart'  was  almost  'sick'  of  hearing  that 
you  were  actually  turning  your  face  towards  the  setting 
sun   till   he   should   become   the   rising  sun,  had  made  us 


236  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

anxiously  expect  the  arrival  of  your  next  communica- 
tions ;  these,  when  they  came,  were  indeed  '  a  tree  of  life,' 
and  we  have  now  begun  to  think  that  probable,  which 
heretofore  we  looked  upon  as  merely  possible;  namely, 
that  we  may  yet  see  your  face  again  in  the  flesh,  and 
hear  from  your  lips,  what  we  always  read  with  delight 
from  your  pen,  the  great  things  which  the  Lord  hath 
done  for  you,  and  in  you,  and  by  you,  since  we  parted. 
Your  letters  and  packages,  by  the  returned  vessel  from 
the  South  Seas  in  October  last,  came  to  hand,  and  were 
exceedingly  acceptable.  The  share  of  shells  and  other 
curiosities,  which  were  forwarded  to  me  from  London, 
have  been  distributed  according  to  the  best  of  my  judg- 
ment among  your  friends  here,  with  the  consent  and  ad- 
vice of  Mr.  Rowland  Hodgson,  Mr.  Samuel  Roberts,  and 
Mr.  Read,  whom  I  consulted  in  everything.  The  artificial 
articles,  arms,  ornaments,  cases,  &c,  &c.,  we  deemed  it 
best  to  present  to  The  Literary  and  Philosophical  So- 
ciety*s  Museum  here,  where  they  will  be  preserved  entire, 
and  always  open  to  the  public  inspection.  Had  we  divided 
them,  they  would  have  been  of  [comparatively]  little  value 
to  anybody ;  whereas,  being  thus  preserved  and  dedicated, 
they  will  be  a  treasure,  even  to  posterity,  with  your  towns- 
people. Mr.  Rowland  Hodgson  is  still  very  feeble,  and 
leads  a  suffering  life :  he  and  I  were  together  for  a  few 
weeks  at  Bridlington  Quay,  whence  he  wrote  to  you.  Mr. 
Roberts  and  his  family  are  pretty  well ;  he  writes  to  you 
by  this  conveyance.  .  .  .  An  old  and  most  amia- 
ble acquaintance  of  yours  lately  died  at  Chesterfield,  full 
of  faith,  and  patience,  and  hope  that  shall  not  be  ashamed, 
I  verily  believe,  —  Joseph  Storrs.  Mr.  Hodgson  and  I 
were  at  his  house  a  few  weeks  before  his  end,  and  he 
seemed  then   calmly   and   delightfully  undressing  for  the 


ESSAY    ON   COWPER'S   POEMS.  237 

grave,  and  clothing  for  immortality.  His  end  was  peace. 
Your  name,  I  may  say,  is  never  forgotten  at  our  anniver- 
saries of  Christian  Institutions,  and  if  not  absolutely  men- 
tioned, is  remembered  with  feelings  of  affection,  and  regret, 
and  desire,  by  those  who  have  been  wont  to  see  you  lead- 
ing the  van  in  every  engagement  against  the  powers  of 
darkness,  shining  in  the  whole  armor  of  light.  O,  how 
glad  shall  we  be  to  hail  you  back  again,  should  the  merci- 
ful providence  of  God  again  unite  us  personally  in  works 
of  faith  and  love !  " 

"  When  you  return,"  he  again  writes  to  Mr.  Bennett, 
"  you  will  with  sorrow  discover  how  much  we  have  apos- 
tatized in  many  things  from  what  you  taught  us,  and  from 
what  we  followed  diligently  and  successfully,  while  you, 
as  our  master,  —  the  greatest  of  all,  because  the  servant 
of  all,  like  your  Redeemer,  —  were  present  with  us.  Oh! 
how  welcome  again  will  be  your  vigilant  eye,  your  active 
mind,  your  generous  hand,  your  fervent  spirit !  Forgive 
me  for  what  seems  to  be  praise,  but  is  only  the  language 
of  gratitude  and  affection  from  my  heart.  I  speak  thus, 
because  you  will  give  God  the  glory.  I  cannot  recollect 
any  particular  local  intelligence  to  send  you  at  this  time. 
My  friends  here,  the  Misses  Gales,  are  pretty  well ;  we 
often  talk  of  you  at  our  fireside,  always  with  affectionate 
hearts,  and  sometimes  with  tearful  eyes.  They  send  their 
kindest  regards,  and  benedictions,  and  prayers  for  your 
health,  and  happiness,  and  return.  I  have  scarcely  any- 
thing new  to  send  you  in  print,  except  a  copy  of  '  Cowper's 
Poems,'  to  which  the  prefatory  essay  is  my  composition. 
Of  this  I  beg  your  acceptance,  as  another  small  token  of 
my  gratitude  and  esteem  for  many  invaluable  acts  of  kind- 
ness shown  to  me  while  you  lived  here,  and  for  every  one 
of  which  I  am  happy  to  remain  your  debtor  till  death." 


238  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

In  July,  1825,  Mr.  Carter,  of  New  York,  travelling  in 
England,  paid  the  poet  a  visit,  and  on  his  return,  gratified 
the  American  public  with  a  description  of  the  bard  and  his 
surroundings. 

The  neat  sitting-room,  and  the  affable  sisterhood  ;  the 
expressive  countenance,  gentle  manners,  and  delightful  con- 
versation of  the  host,  all  conspired  to  make  an  evening 
at  Hartshead  one  of  the  pleasantest  in  the  traveller's  wan- 
derings. Nor  should  pussy  be  left  out  of  this  family  scene, 
fondly  purring  at  her  master's  feet,  or  coyly  leaping  on  his 
knee  to  receive  her  share  of  tea  and  toast.  Nor  should  it 
be  concealed  that  the  grave  poet  in  lighter  moods  indited 
an  epistle  for  his  feline  pet  to  a  little  girl,  its  sometime 
playmate.  Whether  this  deserves  a  place  in  these  sober 
annals,  nobody  but  Grimalkin's  friends  would  be  generous 
judges  of. 

"Hartshead,  near  the  Hole-in-the-Wall,  July  23,  1825. 
"  Harrrrrrr, 

"  3Ieiv,  iceio,  aiiw,  mama,  hee,  icee,  miaw,  waw,  wurr, 
whirr,  ghurr,  weio,  ichew,  issssss,  tz,  tz,  tz,  pxirrurrurrurr^ 

done  into  english  : 
"  Harriet, 

"  This  comes  to  tell  you  that  I  am  very  well,  and  I 
hope  you  are  so  too.  I  am  growing  a  great  cat ;  pray 
how  do  you  come  on  ?  I  wish  you  were  here  to  carry  me 
about  as  you  used  to  do,  and  I  would  scratch  you  to  some 
purpose,  for  I  can  do  this  much  better  than  I  could  while 
you  were  here.  I  have  not  run  away  yet,  but  I  believe  I 
shall  soon,  for  I  find  my  feet  are  too  many  for  my  head,  and 
often  carry  me  into  mischief.     Love  to  Sheffelina,  though 


FELINE    CORRESPONDENCE.  239 

I  was  always  fit  to  pull  her  cap  when  I  saw  you  petting 

her.     My  cross  old  mother  sends  her  love  to  you  —  she 

shows  me  very  little  now-a-days,  I  assure  you,  so  I  do  not 

care  what  she  does  with  the  rest.     She  has  brought  me  a 

mouse   or  two,  and  I  caught  one  myself  last  night,  but  it 

was  in  my  dream,  and  I  awoke  as  hungry  as  a  hunter,  and 

fell  to  biting  at  my  tail,  which  I  believe  I  should  have 

eaten  up,  but  it  would  not  let  me  catch  it.     So  no  more  at 

present  from 

"Tiny. 

"  P.  S. — I  forgot  to  tell  you  that  I  can  beg,  but  I  like 
better  to  steal  —  it's  more  natural,  you  know. 

"Harriet  at  Ockbrook." 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

WITHDRAWAL  FROM  THE  "  IRIS" — REMINISCENCES  —  PUBLIC  DINNER  — 
TOKENS  OF  RESPECT  —  CHRISTIAN  PSALMIST  —  SENTIMENTS  ON  HYM- 
NOLOGY  —  LETTER     TO      MR.      BENNETT  —  "THE     STRANGER      AND     HIS 

FRIEND"  —  TOUR "PELICAN    ISLAND"  ANTI-SLAVERY    MEETINGS  — 

MRS.  HEMANS  —  ROBERT     MONTGOMERY  —  LETTERS     FROM     SOUTHEY  — 
VISIT   TO    KESWICK. 

The  duties  of  editorship  grew  more  and  more  dis- 
tasteful to  Montgomery.  Personal  politics  he  hated  ;  the 
j)olitical  principles  of  the  parties  with  which  he  most 
naturally  sympathised  were  often  allied  to  measures  which 
he  could  not  approve;  and,  as  for  going  with  a  party 
"right  or  wrong,"  a  popular  political  maxim  which  has 
throttled  many  a  conscientious  scruple,  and  runs  up  heavy 
liabilities  on  the  great  day  of  reckoning,  Montgomery 
never  did.  He  loved  the  approbation  of  his  fellows,  as 
what  man  does  not  ?  collisions  of  all  sorts  rasped  upon  his 
sensitive  nature  ;  but  he  was  an  independent  and  fearless 
thinker,  and  never  truckled  to  party  measures,  great  names, 
or  his  own  pockets. 

But  now  that  his  purse  had  reinforcements  from  other 
sources,  for  something  had  accumulated  from  the  sale  of 
his  books,  and  a  yearly  income  was  accruing  from  them, 
he  more  than  ever  wished  to  dispose  of  his  newspaper, 
and  give  himself  altogether  to  pursuits  more  congenial  to 
his  taste  and  temper. 


RETIREMENT    FROM    THE    "IRIS."  241 

An  opportunity  offered  at  this  time,  which  his  judgment 
determined  him  to  accept,  and  in  September,  1825,  the 
Iris  passed  into  the  hands  of  its  new  proprietor,  Mr.  Black- 
well,  a  Methodist  preacher,  whose  tailing  health  compelled 
him  to  quit  the  pulpit  for  the  printing-office. 

His  farewell  address  commended  itself  to  his  townsfolks, 
and  fewer  slurs  were  probably  cast  upon  its  truthfulness 
than  often  happens  to  the  last  testaments  of  retiring 
editors. 

Referring  to  his  principles  of  action  he  says : 

"  From  the  first  moment  that  I  became  the  director  of 
a  public  journal,  I  took  my  own  ground.  I  have  stood 
upon  it  through  many  years  of  changes,  and  I  rest  by  it 
this  day,  as  having  afforded  me  a  shelter  through  the  far 
greater  portion  of  my  life,  and  yet  offering  me  a  grave, 
when  I  shall  no  longer  have  a  part  in  anything  done  under 
the  sun.  And  this  was  my  ground  —  a  plain  determination, 
come  wind  or  sun,  come  fire  or  flood,  to  do  what  was 
right.  I  lay  stress  on  the  purpose,  not  the  performance, 
for  this  was  the  polar  star  to  which  my  compass  pointed, 
though  with  considerable  '  variation  of  the  needle.'  "... 

He  thus  winds  up  his  retrospect : 

"At  the  close  of  1805  ended  the  romance  of  my  public 

life.     The  last  twenty  years  have  brought  their  cares  and 

their  trials,  but  these  have  been  of  the  ordinary  kind — not 

always  the  better  to  bear  on  that  account.     On  a  review 

of  them,  I  can  affirm  that  I  have  endeavored,  according  to 

my  knowledge   and  ability,  to  serve  my  townspeople  and 

my  country,  with  as  little  regard  to  the  fear  or  favor  of 

party  men  as  personal  infirmity  would  admit.     From  the 

beginning  I  have  been  no  favorite  with  such  characters. 

By  the  'Aristocrats'  I  was  persecuted,  and  abandoned  by 

the  *  Jacobins.*     I  have  found  nearly  as  little  grace  in  the 
21 


242  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

sight  of  the  milder  representatives  of  these  two  defunct 
classes  in  later  times ;  yet,  if  either  has  cause  to  complain, 
it  is  that  I  have  occasionally  taken  part  with  the  other  — 
a  presumptive  proof  of  my  impartiality.  Whatever  charge 
of  indecision  may  be  brought  against  me  by  those  who  will 
only  see  one  side  of  everything,  while  I  am  often  puzzled 
by  seeing  so  many  as  hardly  to  be  able  to  make  out  the 
shape  of  the  object  — it  cannot  be  denied,  that  on  the  most 
important  questions  which  have  exercised  the  understand- 
ings or  the  sympathies  of  the  people  of  England,  I  have 
never  flinched  from  declaring  my  own  sentiments,  at  the 
sacrifice  both  of  popularity  and  interest.  If  I  have  not 
done  all  the  good  which  I  might,  and  which  I  ought,  I 
have  rejected  many  opportunities  of  doing  mischief — a 
negative  merit,  which  sometimes  costs  no  small  self-denial 
to  the  editor  of  a  public  journal.  While  I  quit  a  painful 
responsibility  in  laying  down  my  office,  I  am  sensible  that 
I  resign  the  possession  of  great  power  and  influence  in  the 
neighborhood.  These  I  cannot  have  exercised  through  so 
many  years,  without  having  made  the  character  of  my 
townspeople  something  different  from  what  it  would  have 
been  at  this  day  had  I  never  come  among  them.  Whether 
they  are  better  or  worse  for  my  existence  h^re,  they  them- 
selves are  the  right  judges.  This  I  can  affirm,  that  I  have 
perseveringly  sought  the  peace  of  the  city  wherein  I  was 
led  as  an  exile  to  dwell ;  and  never  neglected  an  occasion 
to  promote  the  social,  moral,  and  intellectual  improvement 
of  its  inhabitants.  Nor  in  retirement  can  I  forget,  that  the 
same  duty  I  still  owe  them." 

Though  to  a  friend  he  playfully  tells  how  miserable  both 
he  and  the  cat  were  with  the  noise,  dust  and  confusion  of 
breaking  up  the  printing-office,  the  relinquishment  of  his 
editorial  duties  seems  to  have  given  him  unfeigned  gratifi- 


A    PUBLIC   DINNER.  243 

cation.  Never  were  old  habits  and  haunts  abandoned  with 
less  real  or  sentimental  regret. 

"I  have  never  repented  of  it  for  one  moment,"  he  says. 
"I  am  thankful,  inexpressibly  thankful,  to  that  gracious 
Providence,  which  thus  released  me  from  a  burthen  which 
I  could  scarcely  bear  any  longer.  Of  course,  I  am  not 
rich  —  I  never  took  the  means  of  being  so.  I  have  often 
said  I  could  not  afford  to  pay  the  j^rice  of  wealth,  and  as 
there  is  neither  a  Law  of  Nations  or  an  Act  of  Parliament 
to  compel  me  to  become  rich,  I  would  not  sell  my  peace  of 
mind,  nor  consume  my  time  in  getting  what  I  might  never 
enjoy.  I  do  not  despise  money ;  I  love  it  as  much  as  any 
man  ought  to  do,  and  perhaps  something  more  at  particular 
times ;  but  a  small  provision  is  enough  for  my  few  wants, 
and  the  Lord  has  made  that  provision  for  me.  I  owe  it  all 
to  Him;  I  cannot  say  that  my  skill,  or  industry,  or  merit 
of  any  kind  has  acquired  it ;  I  have  received  it  as  a  free 
gift  at  his  hands,  and  to  Him  I  would  consecrate  it,  and 
every  other  talent." 

Montgomery's  retirement  from  the  editorial  chair  was 
celebrated  by  a  public  dinner,  an  occasion  for  his  friends 
and  fellow-townsmen  to  express  their  high  regard  for  his 
worth  and  talents. 

On  the  4th  of  November,  the  poet's  fifty-fourth  birth- 
day, a  hundred  and  sixteen  gentlemen  sat  down  at  the 
Tontine  Inn,  to  do  him  honor  over  roast  beef,  and  to  pay  a 
deserving  tribute  to  manly  and  high-toned  Christian  citizen- 
ship. 

"  I  looked  forward  to  this  day,"  he  said  to  his  friends, 
"with  mingled  terror  and  delight.  The  terror  has  de- 
parted,  but  the  delight  will  long  remain." 

Other  congratulations  of  a  more  serious  tone  were  borne 
to  him. 


244  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

"  In  former  times,"  writes  a  faithful  preacher,  "  you  were 
made  to  feel  the  bitterness  of  affliction,  and  you  have  fre- 
quently had  to  drink,  in  secret,  from  the  cup  of  sorrow ; 
but  this  is  a  chord  I  have  no  right  to  touch;  it  is  the  sanc- 
tuary into  which  I  must  not  enter.  And  I  shall  only  re- 
mind you,  that  while  you  were  thus  tried,  your  heavenly 
Father  has  been  employed  in  polishing  one  of  his  precious 
jewels  against  that  day  when  lie  will  make  it  up,  with 
millions  more,  and  give  it  a  place  in  the  mediatorial  crown 
of  the  Redeemer.  I  know,  my  dear  friend,  that  to  your 
heart  this  is  the  noblest  and  most  desirable  consummation 
that  eternity  itself  can  reveal.  All  the  afflictive  circum- 
stances of  your  life  have  been  brought  about  by  infinite 
wisdom,  and  with  the  most  benign  intentions.  But  why 
should  I  write  in  this  strain,  when  your  cup  of  felicity 
is  running  over?  I  have  contemplated  the  honors  with 
which  you  have  been  arrayed  as  the  fruits  of  a  victory, 
a  glorious  victory,  in  which  the  whole  Christian  world 
should  participate.  It  is  the  triumph  of  truth,  and  virtue, 
and  piety,  over  error,  and  vice,  and  impiety.  Your  muse 
has  been  persecuted  for  righteousness'  sake ;  and  after  hav- 
ing passed  through  much  tribulation,  she  now  aj^pears,  like 
the  saints  before  the  throne,  clothed  in  white  raiment,  and 
holding  in  her  hand  the  emblematic  palm.  ...  A  voice 
from  the  throne  of  the  Eternal  is  heard,  saying,  '  Be  thou 
faithful  unto  death,  and  I  will  give  thee  a  crown  of  life.' 
This  is  in  reserve  for  you,  and  will  infinitely  surjoass  all 
the  honor  that  comes  from  man.  My  feeble  but  sincere 
prayers  are  daily  offered  up  on  your  behalf,  that  you  may 
possess  all  spiritual  blessings  in  heavenly  places  in  Christ 
Jesus." 

Released  from  the  urgent  and  ever  recurring  duties  of  a 
journalist,  Montgomery  had  more  time  for  those  "  minis- 


TESTIMONIALS  OF  RESPECT.         245 

tries  of  mercy "  which  marked  his  later  life,  and  which 
gave  him  so  strong  a  hold  upon  the  sympathies  and  affec- 
tions of  the  Christian  public. 

"While  gentlemen  ate  to  the  poet's  honor,  woman  em- 
bodied her  respect  in  a  more  permanent  and  significant 
memorial.  A  beautiful  inkstand,  of  Sheffield  workman- 
ship, was  presented  to  him,  and  a  thousand  dollars  were 
raised  to  found  and  support  a  Moravian  mission,  to  be 
called  by  his  name,  and  located  in  Tobago,  where  his 
parents  labored  forty  years  before. 

"Montgomery"  is  a  station  blessed  by  the  God  of  grace. 
Its  congregations  this  day  number  1,400  adults,  and,  in- 
cluding the  schools,  as  many  children. 

A  letter  to  an  old  friend  discloses  an  abatement  of  the 
fervors  of  youth,  with  little  relaxation  from  its  pressing  en- 
gagements : 

"  I  have  as  little  deserved  that  you  should  suppose  I  was 
offended  at  you,  as  you  have  deserved  that  I  should  take 
offence.  My  only  fault,  it  seems,  is  my  silence ;  that  can 
soon  be  explained  —  whether  it  can  be  justified,  is  another 
question.  Well,  then,  you  have  only  just  the  same  com- 
plaint to  make  against  me,  that  every  other  friend  I  have 
in  the  world  may  make.  When  I  am  absent,  I  never  write 
a  letter  that  I  can  fairly  avoid  now-a-days;  because,  in 
truth,  I  am  oppressed  and  harassed  with  miscellaneous 
correspondence  which  I  cannot  escape,  and  which  is  often 
accompanied  by  such  tasks  for  my  mind,  that  my  eye 
recoils  and  my  hand  shrinks  instinctively  from  a  blank 
sheet  of  letter  paper ;  and  nothing  can  exceed  the  re- 
pugnance with  which  I  launch  my  pen  upon  such  an 
unknown  sea,  except  the  pleasure  with  which  I  drop 
anchor  with  it  at  the  bottom   of  the  third  page,  —  for  I 

seldom  put  into  port  sooner,  —  and  jump  on  shore  while 
21* 


246  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

I  fold  it  up  in  all  the  joy  of  freedom.  It  was  quite 
otherwise  when  you  and  I  were  correspondents  thirty 
years  ago.  I  was  then  young,  and  ardent,  and  devoted 
rather  to  suffer  than  to  lie  still;  I  had  abundance  of 
surplus  feelings,  and  thoughts,  and  imaginations,  which 
I  was  delighted  to  disburthen  to  a  faithful  friend,  who 
I  was  sure  would  read  them  with  as  much  enthusiasm 
as  I  wrote.  I  have  gone  through  many  labors,  and 
trials,  and  afflictions  in  the  plain  prose  of  human  life 
since  that  time  ;  and  the  poetry  of  my  heart  has  been 
blighted  and  withered  in  the  cold  mildews  and  dry  blasts 
which  have  gone  over  me  since  I  was  an  inhabitant  of 
the  world  of  romance.  This  is  very  much  like  frenzy, 
you  will  say;  there  is,  however,  truth,  implied  if  not 
expressed,  in  it,  and  truth  which  I  have  no  power  to 
communicate  in  ordinary  words,  and  which  I  would  not 
communicate  if  I  could;  for  it  is  connected  in  me  with 
that  bitterness  which  the  heart  keeps  to  itself,  and  with 
which  even  a  friend  cannot  altogether  sympathize.  In 
a  word,  I  have  lived  so  long,  and  have  been  carried  by 
the  flood  of  events  to  a  situation  which  exposes  me  to 
the  honor  and  misery  of  being  deemed  by  many  people 
a  much  greater,  better,  wiser  man  than  I  m ;  and  con- 
sequently I  must  pay  the  price  in  the  sacrifice  of  time, 
talents  (such  as  they  are),  feeling,  and  peace  of  mind,  for 
such  distinction.  The  effect  is,  that  I  can  do  very  little 
for  myself;  my  spirits  are  exhausted  with  business  to 
which  I  am  compelled  either  by  a  sense  of  duty,  or  im- 
perious necessity,  —  not  having  learnt  to  say  no,  —  so  that 
when  I  have  an  hour  of  leisure,  I  am  out  of  tune,  and 
sit  down  in  sadness  and  despondency,  thinking  that  I  live 
almost  in  vain,  if  not  worse  than  in  vain,  and  that  the 
little  strength  I  have  I  spend  for  naught.     During  the  last 


"CHRISTIAN   PSALMIST"    AND    "POET."        247 

four  months  I  have  been  attempting,  in  lucid  intervals, 
to  compose  a  leading  poem  for  a  volume  of  fugitive  pieces, 
which  I  have,  flying  about  the  kingdom  in  all  directions ; 
yet,  hitherto,  I  have  found  it  the  hardest  task  of  the  kind 
I  ever  undertook,  and  of  the  success  I  cannot  form  an 
idea,  indeed  hardly  a  hope. 

"  But  I  must  be  brief.  I  have  not  written  to  you  be- 
cause I  had  no  occasion,  that  is,  no  compulsion :  I  write 
now,  because  I  have  both." 

This  letter  closed  Montgomery's  correspondence  with 
Joseph  Aston,  of  Manchester,  who  died  a  few  years  after, 
at  the  ripe  age  of  82. 

Of  his  more  direct  labors  in  the  vocation  by  which  he 
is  now  best  known  to  the  world,  we  learn  from  himself 
in  a  letter  to  Mr.  Bennett : 

"  Since  I  last  wrote  to  you,  if  I  recollect  rightly,  I  have 
twice  appeared  before  the  world  —  as  a  Christian  Psalm- 
ist, and  as  a  Christian  Poet.  I  allude  to  two  volumes  of 
compilations  of  psalms  and  hymns,  in  the  first  instance,  in 
which  I  deemed  poetry  and  piety  to  be  united,  with  a 
hundred  original  pieces  of  my  own,  which  has  been  a 
very  successful  publication,  something  of  the  kind  having 
long  been»  wanted.  The  sequel,  the  Christian  Poet,  had 
the  same  object  in  view,  but  comprehended  j)ieces  of  a 
higher  order,  and  laying  claim  to  the  genuine  honors  of 
verse,  as  the  noblest  vehicle  of  the  noblest  thoughts. 
This  also  promises  to  reward  the  spirited  publisher,  and, 
I  may  add,  the  laborious  editor.  Last  week  I  assumed  a 
new  poetical  shape,  and  came  out  as  the  author  of  the 
Pelican  Island,  of  which  I  can  say  no  more  than  that 
it  is  in  blank  verse,  and  that,  if  I  find  opportunity,  I  shall 
be  exceedingly  happy  to  enclose  a  copy  of  each  of  these 


248  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

works,  to  c  kiss  your  hands '  (as  the  Italians  say)  among 
the  Hottentots." 

"  The  Christian  Psalmist ;  or  Hymns  selected  and  orig- 
inal," appeared  at  the  close  of  the  year  1825.  These, 
562  in  number,  are  from  several  authors,  including  one- 
fifth  from  his  own  pen.  The  work  went  through  several 
editions,  and  was  very  acceptable  to  the  religious  public. 

Some  remarks  on  Hymnology,  from  his  introductory 
essay,  will  be  interesting  in  these  days  of  Christian 
psalmody : 

"  A  hymn  ought  to  be  as  regular  in  its  structure  as  any 
other  poem ;  it  should  have  a  distinct  subject,  and  that 
subject  should  be  simple,  not  complicated,  so  that  whatever 
skill  or  labor  might  be  required  in  the  author  to  develop 
his  plan,  there  should  be  little  or  none  required  on  the 
part  of  the  reader  to  understand  it.  Consequently,  a  hymn 
must  have  a  beginning,  middle,  and  end.  There  should 
be  a  manifest  gradation  in  the  thoughts  ;  and  their  mutual 
dependence  should  be  so  perceptible  that  they  could  not 
be  transposed  without  injuring  the  unity  of  the  j^iece ; 
every  line  carrying  forward  the  connection,  and  every 
verse  adding  a  well-proportioned  limb  to  a  symmetrical 
body.  The  reader  should  know  when  the  strain  is  com- 
plete, and  be  satisfied,  as  at  the  close  of  an  air  in  music ; 
while  defects  and  superfluities  should  be  felt  by  him  as 
annoyances,  in  whatever  part  they  might  occur.  The 
practice  of  many  good  men,  in  framing  hymns,  has  been 
quite  the  contrary.  They  have  begun  apparently  with  the 
only  idea  in  their  mind  at  the  time ;  another,  with  little 
relationship  to  the  former,  has  been  forced  upon  them  by 
a  refractory  rhyme ;  a  third  became  necessary  to  eke  out 
a  verse ;  a  fourth,  to  begin  one  ;  and  so  on,  till,  having 
compiled  a  sufficient  number  of  stanzas  of  so  many  lines, 


SENTIMENTS    ON   HYMNOLOGY.  249 

and  lines  of  so  many  syllables,  the  operation  Las  been  sus- 
pended ;  whereas  it  might  with  equal  consistency,  have 
been  continued  to  any  imaginable  length,  and  the  tenth 
or  ten  thousandth  link  might  have  been  struck  out  or 
changed  places  with  any  other,  without  the  slightest  in- 
fraction of  the  chain  ;  the  whole  being  a  series  of  inde- 
pendent verses,  collocated  as  they  came,  and  the  burden 
a  canto  of  phrases,  figures,  and  ideas,  the  common  property 
of  every  writer  who  has  none  of  his  own,  and  therefore 
found  in  the  works  of  each,  unimproved,  if  not  unimpaired, 
from  generation  to  generation.  Such  rhapsodies  may  be 
sung  from  time  to  time,  and  keep  alive  devotion  already 
kindled  ;  but  they  leave  no  trace  in  the  memory,  make  no 
impression  on  the  heart,  and  fall  through  the  mind  as 
sounds  glide  through  the  ear  —  pleasant,  it  may  be,  in 
their  passage,  but  never  returning  to  haunt  the  imagina- 
tion in  retirement,  or,  in  the  multitude  of  the  thoughts, 
to  refresh  the  soul.  Of  how  contrary  a  character,  how 
transcendency  superior  in  value  as  well  as  influence,  are 
those  hymns  which,  once  heard,  are  remembered  without 
effort  —  remembered  involuntarily,  yet  remembered  with 
renewed  and  increasing  delight  at  every  revival !  It  may 
be  safely  affirmed  that  the  permanent  favorites  in  every 
collection  are  those  which,  in  the  requisites  before  men- 
tioned, or  for  some  other  peculiar  excellence,  are  dis- 
tinguished above  the  rest." 

Tried  by  this  test,  are  his  own  hymns  found  wanting  ? 
August  16,  1826,  he  writes  to  Mr.  Bennett : 
"  From  the  hurry  and  anxiety  of  preparation  for  a  jour- 
ney to  Harrogate,  I  snatch  a  few  moments  to  flee  over 
land  and  ocean  —  as  I  may  do  without  the  slightest  inter- 
ruption, though  I  cannot  cross  the  room  in  which  I  am 
sitting  without  an  effort  of  mind  and  limb  —  to  meet  you, 


250  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

wherever  you  are  at  this  time,  in  spirit,  and  whenever  you 
arrive  at  the  j)lace  to  which  this  is  directed,  to  meet  you 
again  on  paper.  The  latter  occasion,  I  hope,  will  be  when 
you  arrive  at  your  last  stage  before  embarking,  for  good 
and  all,  for  Old  England  once  more.  At  the  Cape  of 
Good  Hope,  then,  and  for  the  last  time  probably,  such  an 
interview  will  occur  ;  I  therefore  gladly  assure  you,  of 
what  you  know  by  your  own  feelings,  that  absence  cannot 
lessen  the  sincere  affection  of  long-enjoyed  and  long-tried 
Christian  friendship,  and  if  absence  in  this  world  cannot  do 
it,  where  we  have  but  the  possibility  of  meeting  again  —  ab- 
sence from  the  body,  when  to  be  so  absent  is  to  be  present 
with  the  Lord,  cannot  disunite  those  who  love  Him,  for 
where  He  is,  we  shall  be.  Your  last  letter,  from  the 
Eastern  Archipelago,  showed  me  that,  as  you  have  turned 
the  point  from  which  the  sun  sets  out  to  visit  us,  your 
heart  feels  the  attraction  of  your  native  land  stronger 
and  stronger,  and  the  sweetness  of  home-sickness  grows 
more  and  more  overpowering  and  bewildering.  I  can 
truly  sympathise  with  you  in  the  desolation  of  heart  which 
you  experienced  on  the  coast  of  China,  in  the  river  of 
Canton,  where  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus  is  proscribed. 
And  there  to  find  no  letter  from  England,  no  introduction 
from  Dr.  Morrison  —  this,  after  coming  from  the  islands 
of  the  South  Sea,  where  'glory  to  God  in  the  highest,'  &c. 
is  singing  from  shore  to  shore,  as  if  Christ  were  new-born 
among  the  people  who  sat  in  darkness  there  —  this  must 
have  gone  through  your  soul  like  a  sword  of  ice,  wound- 
ing, and  chilling,  and  deadening,  where  it  pierced  Faith, 
Hope,  and  Charity  themselves  in  your  bosom.  But  it  is 
discouraging  to  us  to  send  out  our  messengers  from  time 
to  time,  we  know  not  whither,  in  the  hope  that  one  or 
two  may  not  miscarry.     This  shuts  our  hearts  and  restrains 


"THE    STRANGER    AND    HIS    FRIEND."  251 

our  hands  when  we  write,  not  knowing  for  whose  eyes 
the  lines  may  be  destined.  All  the  public  affairs  of  this 
neighborhood  you  will  learn  from  the  newspapers ;  and 
from  these  you  will  find  that  the  number  of  old  familiar 
faces  is  diminishing :  many  you  will  never  see  again  ;  and 
those  you  do,  will  not  appear  as  they  once  did ;  they  grow 
old,  and  yet  renew  their  youth,  like  the  eagle,  with  every 
opportunity  of  writing  to  or  hearing  from  the  beloved  and 
absent. 

"  You  are  often  inquired  after  by  persons  whose  names 
I  knoAV  not.     Once  more,  your  faithful  friend." 

An  exquisite  embodiment  of  the  Christian  element  of 
good  works  belongs  to  this  year : 

THE    STRANGER    AND    HIS    FRIEND. 

"   Ye  have  done  it  unto  me." — Matt.,  xxv.  40. 

"  A  poor  way-faring  Man  of  grief 
Hath  often  crossed  me  on  my  way, 

"Who  sued  so  humbly  for  relief, 
That  I  could  never  answer  '  Nay :' 

I  had  not  power  to  ask  his  name, 

"Whither  he  went,  or  whence  he  came ; 

Yet  there  was  something  in  his  eye 

That  won  my  love,  I  knew  not  why. 

"  Once,  when  my  scanty  meal  was  spread, 
He  entered  —  not  a  word  he  spake  — 

Just  famishing,  for  want  of  bread  : 
I  gave  him  all  —  he  blessed  it,  brake, 

And  ate,  but  gave  me  part  again. 

Mine  was  an  angel's  portion  then; 

For  while  I  fed  with  eager  haste, 

That  crust  was  manna  to  my  taste. 


252  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

"  I  spied  him,  where  a  fountain  burst 

Clear  from  the  rock :  his  strength  was  gone ; 
The  heedless  water  mocked  his  thirst ; 

He  heard  it,  saw  it  hurrying  on : 
I  ran  to  raise  the  sufferer  up ; 
Thrice  from  the  stream  he  drained  my  cup, 
Dipt,  and  returned  it,  running  o'er 
I  drank,  and  never  thirsted  more. 

"  'Twas  night :  the  floods  were  out ;  it  blew 

A  winter  hurricane  aloof: 
I  heard  his  voice  abroad,  and  flew 

To  bid  him  welcome  to  my  roof. 
I  warmed,  I  clothed,  I  cheered  my  guest, 
Laid  him  on  my  own  couch  to  rest ; 
Then  made  the  hearth  my  bed,  and  seemed 
In  Eden's  garden  while  I  dreamed. 

"  Stript,  wounded,  beaten,  nigh  to  death, 
I  found  him  by  the  highway  side : 
I  roused  his  pulse,  brought  back  his  breath, 

Eevived  his  spirit,  and  supplied 
Wine,  oil,  refreshment ;  he  was  healed :  — 
I  had  myself  a  wound  concealed ; 
But  from  that  hour  forgot  the  smart 
And  Peace  bound  up  my  broken  heart. 

"  In  prison  I  saw  him  next,  condemned 
To  meet  a  traitor's  doom  at  morn : 
The  tide  of  lying  tongues  I  stemmed, 

And  honored  him  midst  shame  and  scorn. 
My  friendship's  utmost  zeal  to  try, 
He  asked  if  I  for  him  would  die  ; 
The  flesh  was  weak,  my  blood  ran  chill, 
But  the  free  spirit  cried,  '  I  will.' 


"MEMORIAL    DAYS."  253 

"  Then  in  a  moment  to  my  view, 

The  stranger  darted  from  disguise ; 

The  tokens  in  his  hands  I  knew, 
My  Saviour  stood  before  my  eyes. 

He  spake,  and  my  poor  name  He  named : 

'  Of  me  thou  hast  not  been  ashamed ; 

These  deeds  shall  thy  memorial  be  ; 

Fear  not,  thou  didst  them  unto  Me.' " 

Among  the  "  memorial  days  "  which  mark  at  intervals 
the  progress  of  the  ecclesiastical  year  among  the  Mora- 
vians, is  the  12th  of  May,  on  which  the  congregations 
commemorate  the  "  agreement  to  the  first  orders  or  sta- 
tutes "  of  the  Brethren,  as  promulgated  at  Herrnhut  in 
1727.  The  centenary  celebration  of  this  event  led  Mont- 
gomery to  Ockbrook,  where  he  spent  a  few  weeks  very 
pleasantly  between  the  religious  services  of  the  festival, 
and  his  out-door  walks  in  the  finest  season  of  the  year. 
Of  his  literary  occupation  while  there,  he  thus  writes  to 
John  Holland : 

"  I  have  with  difficulty  found  time  to  fulfil  my  promise 
to-day.  It  means  nothing  now ;  but  the  fact  means  every- 
thing. I  have  been  greatly  engaged  since  I  came  hither, 
principally  indeed  with  pen,  ink,  and  paper;  yet  I  know 
no  three  things  more  unmanageable  than  these  when 
they  fairly  take  possession  of  hands,  head,  and  heart,  as 
they  have  lately  done  of  mine,  —  sometimes,  I  fear,  to 
little  purpose,  —  again  I  hope.  In  truth,  the  weather 
within  me  —  that  is,  the  weather  on  the  Pelican  Island — > 
much  resembles  this  froward,  stormy,  winter-like  spring, 
with  gleams  of  sunshine,  and  now  and  then  a  breath  of 
air  that   turns  all  to   paradise  —  but  Paradise  Lost  soon 

follows  Paradise  Found  with  me.    Pray  give  my  best  re- 
22 


254  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

membrance  to  Mr.  Blackwell ;  and  tell  Miss  Gales  I  will 
write  to  her  as  soon  as  my  burthen  is  a  little  lighter." 

In  the  autumn  of  this  year  Montgomery  visited  the 
north  of  England  on  a  Bible  tour,  in  company  with  his 
friend  Rowland  Hodgson.  They  were  at  Barnard  Castle 
on  the  28th  of  August,  and  at  Darlington  on  the  4th 
of  September :  they  also  attended  a  meeting  at  Rich- 
mond, when  the  poet,  in  his  speech,  made  an  affecting 
allusion  to  Herbert  Knowles,  once  a  pupil  in  the  school 
there,  and  whose  well-known  stanzas  written  in  the  church- 
yard, "  Methinks  it  is  good  to  be  here,"  &c,  he  repeated 
with  deep  emotion.  On  the  10th  of  September  they  at- 
tended a  meeting  at  Newcastle-upon-Tyne,  at  which  were 
also  present  Dr.  Steinkopff,  foreign  secretary  of  the  Bible 
Society,  and  Dr.  Marshman,  the  Baptist  missionary  from 
Serampore.  Montgomery  addressed  the  audience  at  con- 
siderable length,  giving,  as  he  often  did,  additional  inter- 
est to  his  remarks  by  the  charm  of  local  allusion. 

The  ideal  of  a  new  j:>oem  had  been  floating  in  his  mind 
for  several  years;  ever  since  1818,  he  tells  us,  when  he 
read  the  narrative  of  a  voyage  in  the  Pacific,  in  which 
many  islands  of  the  Australian  group  wrere  described  as 
the  solitary  haunts  of  innumerable  pelicans,  where  gener- 
ations of  birds  had  lived  and  died  as  unseen  as  unsung  by 
man. 

His  imagination  seized  hold  of  the  picture,  and  though 
for  a  long  time  it  did  little  but  flutter  round  the  scene,  the 
outlines  of  a  new  poem  at  last  began  to  shape  themselves 
into  symmetry  and  fullness. 

How  it  began  to  take  form,  and  how  a  sudden  glance  at 
passing  objects  may  quicken  into  life  and  beauty  the  rude 
material  of  our  thought,  the  poet  himself  reveals  : 

"  Long  at  a  loss  for  a  leading  idea,  as  I  was  returning 


"PELICAN   ISLAND."  255 

to  Sheffield  from  Scarborough  last  autumn,  with  my  friend 
Mr.  Hodgson,  my  attention  was  forcibly  arrested  by  the 
singular  appearance  of  the  country  about  Thorp  Arch, 
which  was  so  completely  flooded,  that  only  a  few  of  the 
more  prominent  points  of  ground  were  seen,  like  green 
islands  amidst  the  lake.  By  some  involuntary  association 
of  ideas,  I  was  powerfully  reminded  of  the  Pelican  Island. 
In  a  moment  the  radical  thought  of  which  I  had  been 
so  long  in  quest  rushed  into  my  mind  ;  and  I  saw  the 
whole  plan  of  my  poem  from  beginning  to  end.  I  im- 
mediately began  the  subject  in  blank  verse;  and  by  the 
time  we  reached  Ferrybridge,  I  had  composed  a  number 
of  lines,  which  I  wrote  down  with  my  pencil  in  the  inn 
there ;  and  from  that  time  to  the  present  I  have  labored 
incessantly  at  the  work,  and  now  hope  that  its  execution 
will  be  in  some  degree  comparable  to  my  conception  of  the 
subject." 

In  the  warm  glow  of  this  new-born  fervor,  the  poet 
wrought,  with  a  loving  diligence.  Another  work  graced 
his  name.  Of  its  reception,  and  the  author's  feelings,  we 
gather  something  from  a  letter  to  his  friend  Everett : 

"  The  Pelican  Island  certainly  has  been  a  puzzle,  not 
in  its  title  only,  which  set  conjecture  concerning  its  plot 
at  defiance,  but  in  its  development  of  that  undiscoverable 
plot.  "Whatever  be  its  faults  or  its  merits,  they  are  not 
of  a  common-place  character,  for  they  commanded  earlier 
and  more  particular  notice  from  that  fraternity  of  dictators, 
the  reviewers,  than  any  previous  publication  of  mine  had 
done ;  and  they  have  caused  more  diversity  of  opinion  also 
among  those  gentlemen,  every  one  of  whom  is  infallible  by 
himself,  but  taken  together  they  are  quite  as  fallible  as 
those  who  most  fear  them  could  desire.  There  has  been 
so  much  happy  contradiction  among  these  authorities  re- 


256  LIFE   OF   MONTGOMERY. 

specting  the  Pelican  Island^  that  it  would  be  hard  to 
find  a  sentence  of  censure  or  commendation  in  one  of 
their  critiques,  which  has  not  been  reversed  in  another. 
"Where  doctors  differ,  this  should  be  so ;  the  public  will 
in  due  time  settle  all  differences,  and  form  a  judgment 
as  independent  of  them  as  if  they  had  never  existed. 
Meanwhile  the  author's  nerves  must  be  exercised  by 
every  species  of  torture  or  transport,  which  the  opinions 
of  those  who  have  his  credit  at  their  mercy  can  inflict 
or  awaken,  in  the  presence  of  his  contemporaries,  who 
at  such  a  time,  in  his  morbid  imagination,  have  all  their 
eyes  upon  him,  like  those  of  a  mob  upon  the  victim 
at  an  execution,  and  all  their  ears  open  to  the  sarcasms 
and  plaudits  that  are  poured  upon  him.  Having  now 
nearly  passed  this  ordeal,  and  been  thus  far  pretty  favor- 
ably treated,  I  am  gradually  recovering  my  usual  tone 
of  feeling,  and  resigning  my  poem  and  myself  to  what 
may  await  us  in  the  ordinary  course  of  this  world's  af- 
fairs. Circumstances  are  daily  occurring  which  remind 
me  that  I  have  every  day  a  less  stake  in  the  interests  of 
the  present  life  than  I  had  before,  and  that  the  things  of 
eternity  are  becoming  of  more  awful  and  imminent  im- 
portance to  me  than  they  have  hitherto  been.  I  have 
no  room,  however,  to  moralize  at  present,  but  I  can  say 
truly  that  I  desire  to  be  delivered  from  this  bondage 
of  corruption,  and  brought  into  the  glorious  liberty  of 
the  children  of  God.  Then  will  the  praise  or  condemna- 
tion of  man  on  my  vain  labors  to  please  him,  and  to 
gratify  myself,  as  a  poet,  be  of  little  influence  either 
to  depress  or  exalt  above  measure  my  too  susceptible 
feelings,  in  whatever  relates  to  that  object  of  my  past 
(perhaps   my  present)   idolatry,   the  fame   which  I  once 


"PELICAN    ISLAND"    PUBLISHED,  257 

thought  the  most  desirable  good  under  heaven.     I  must 
turn   to   other   subjects   in   your   letter." 

Pelican  Island,  published  in  1827,  was  the  last  of  Mr. 
Montgomery's  longer  poems.  Descriptive,  as  it  is,  of  a 
solitary  contemplation  of  nature  in  her  manifold  changes 
and  forms  of  life,  a  graceful  fancy  and  a  delicate  appre- 
hension of  the   uncaused   cause 

"  of  effects  that  seemed  spontaneous 


And  sprang  in  infinite  succession,  linked 
With  kindred  issues,  infinite  as  they, 
For  which  Almighty  skill  had  laid  the  train, 
Even  in  the  elements  of  chaos,  —  whence 
The  unravelling  clew  not  for  a  moment  lost 
Hold  of  the  silent  hand  that  drew  it  out," 

mark  the  j:>oem.  Leading  reviewers  of  the  time  pro- 
nounced some  portions  of  it  Miltonic  ;  the  deficiency 
which  characterizes  all  his  larger  productions  —  want  of 
unity  —  is  no  less  obvious  in  this.  A  patriarchal  gran- 
deur  and   solemnity  are   impressed,  on  its   close : 

u  The  world  grows  darker,  lonelier,  and  more  silent, 
As  I  go  down  into  the  vale  of  years : 
For  the  grave's  shadows  lengthen  in  advance, 
And  the  grave's  loneliness  appalls  my  spirit, 
And  the  grave's  silence  sinks  into  my  heart, 
Till  I  forget  existence,  in  the  thought 
Of  non-existence,  buried  for  a  while 
In  the  still  sepulchre  of  my  own  mind, 
Itself  imperishable :  —  ah !  that  word, 
Like  the  archangel's  trumpet,  wakes  me  up 
To  deathless  resurrection.     Heaven  and  earth 
Shall  pass  away,  but  that  which  thinks  within  me 
Must  think  forever ;  that  which  feels,  must  feel : 
I  am,  and  I  can  never  cease  to  be. 

99* 


258  LIFE   OF   MONTGOMERY. 

Oh,  thou  that  reaclest !  take  this  parable 

Home  to  thy  bosom ;  think  as  I  have  thought, 

And  feel  as  I  have  felt,  through  all  the  changes 

Which  Time,  Life,  Death,  the  world's  great  actors,  wrought, 

While  centuries  swept  like  morning  dreams  before  me, 

And  thou  shalt  find  this  moral  to  my  song : 

Thou  art  and  thou  canst  never  cease  to  be  ; 

What  then  are  Time,  Life,  Death,  the  World,  to  thee  ? 

I  may  not  answer ;  ask  Eternity." 

"At  the  beginning  of  the  summer  of  1828,  Mont- 
gomery," we  extract  from  his  English  biography,  "was 
again  deeply  engaged  with  the  question  of  negro  slavery. 
Meetings  had  been  held  in  other  towns  to  further  the 
entire  abolition  of  that  abominable  system ;  and  it  was 
now  the  turn  of  the  abolitionists  in  Sheffield  to  come  for- 
ward as  became  them  in  this  mighty  movement.  Upon 
the  poet  devolved  the  duty  of  calling  his  townspeople 
together,  drawing  up  resolutions  to  lay  before  them,  and 
preparing  a  petition  to  Parliament.  This  was  an  affair  of 
considerable  delicacy ;  for  while  most  of  the  inhabitants, 
who  thought  on  the  subject  at  all,  were  agreed  as  to  the 
desirableness,  as  well  as  the  practicability  of  putting  an 
end  to  slavery  in  the  British  dominions,  they  differed  ma- 
terially about  the  time  and  the  manner  of  doing  it.  Mont- 
gomery, whose  prudence  happily  was  commensurate  with 
his  enthusiasm,  so  managed  the  matter,  that  all  parties, 
even  the  most  scrupulous,  could  concur  at  least  in  the 
prayer  of  the  petition ;  while  others,  who  overlooked  all 
conflicting  considerations  in  the  admitted  fact  that  here 
was  a  monster  evil  which  ought  to  be  remedied,  were 
pleased  with  the  placard  calling  the  meeting,  in  which 
Montgomery  had  instructed  the  printer  to  use  the  largest 
type  he  had  in  the  first  of  the  two  words  of  the   head- 


VISIT    TO    MRS.    HEMANS.  259 

line  — « Xo  Slavery !'  The  meeting  was  held  on  the  9th 
of  June,  when  Montgomery  spoke  at  great  length,  and 
with  equal  propriety  and  effect."* 

In  the  autumn  he  journeyed  in  Wales.  Mrs.  Hemans 
tells  us  of  seeing  him : 

"  I  had  an  interesting  visit  a  few  days  since  from  the 
poet  Montgomery,  not  the  new  aspirant  to  that  name,  but 
the  '  real  Peter  Bell.'  He  is  very  pleasing  in  manner  and 
countenance,  notwithstanding  a  mass  of  troubled,  stream- 
ing, meteoric-looking  hair,  that  seemed  as  if  it  had  just  been 
contending  with  the  blasts  of  Snowdon,  from  which  he 
had  just  returned  full  of  animation  and  enthusiasm.  He 
complained  much  in  the  course  of  conversation,  and  I 
heartily  joined  with  him,  of  the  fancy  which  wise  people 
have  in  the  present  times  for  setting  one  right ;  cheating 
one,  that  is,  out  of  all  the  pretty  old  legends  and  stories, 
in  the  place   of  which  they  want  to  establish  dull  facts. 

*  This  and  similar  meetings  in  different  parts  of  the  country  were  aux- 
iliary to  one  which  was  held  in  Exeter  Hall  in  the  month  of  March,  and 
at  which  Lord  Brougham  presided.  Although  not  personally  present  at 
this  great  metropolitan  gathering  of  anti-slavery  delegates,  Montgomery's 
words  were  heard,  and  his  spirit  felt,  even  on  that  occasion,  in  a  way 
which  will  not  soon  bo  forgotten  by  those  individuals  who  listened  to  the 
animating  speech  of  the  Rev.  J.  Carlisle,  of  Belfast,  and  joined  in  the  ap- 
plause which  followed  its  concluding  sentiment : 

"  Where  a  tyrant  never  trod, 

Where  a  slave  was  never  known, 
But  where  Nature  worships  God, 

In  the  wilderness  alone  — 
Thither,  thither,  would  I  roam ; 

There  my  children  may  be  free ; 
I  for  them  will  find  a  home, 

They  shall  find  a  grave  for  me." 

Wanderer  of  Switzerland.  Part  vi.,  5 


2G0  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

We  mutually  grumbled  about  Fair  Rosamond,  Queen 
Eleanor  and  the  poisoned  wound,  Richard  the  Third  and 
his  hump-back ;  but  agreed  most  resolutely  that  nothing 
should  ever  induce  us  to  give  up  William  Tell." 

"The  new  aspirant"  here  alluded  to  was  a  clergyman 
bearing  the  same  name  (Robert  Montgomery),  whose 
maiden  effort  was  equivocally  heralded  —  "Montgomery's 
New  Poem,  The  Omnipresence  of  the  Deity."  Both 
friends  and  booksellers  were  misled,  and  James  had  to 
bear  the  brunt  of  undeserved  criticism,  and  what  was 
more  painful  and  provoking,  indiscriminate  puffing. 

A  letter  from  Southey : 

"  Keswick,  April  28,  1829. 
"My  Dear  Montgomery, 

"  I  received  your  parcel  just  long  enough  ago  to  have 
read  the  brief  note  which  it  contained  from  my  dear  and 
good  old  friend,  Joseph  Cottle,  your  letter,  and  your  In- 
troductory Essay  to  the  Pilgrini's  Progress.  First,  let  me 
thank  you  for  your  letter,  for  the  books,  and  for  the  kind 
manner  in  which  you  remember  one  who  always  remem- 
bers you  with  respect  and  admiration,  and  with  as  much 
affection  as  can  be  felt  for  one  of  whom,  much  to  his  own 
regret,  he  personally  knows  so  little.  Then  let  me  com- 
plain of  you  for  supposing  I  should  not  agree  with  you  in 
your  estimate  either  of  the  character  or  the  genius  of 
John  Bunyan,  a  name  which  I  never  mention  without 
honor,  nor  think  of  without  pleasure.  I  am  not  conscious 
of  any  feeling,  thought,  word,  or  deed,  at  any  time  of  my 
life,  which  could  have  led  you  to  imagine  that  in  this  case 
I  was  morally  and  intellectually  blind.  Indeed,  when  I 
Was  applied  to  by  an  old  acquaintance,  on  the  part  of  Mr. 
Major  the  bookseller,  to  perform  an  office  which  I  did  not 


SOUTHEY'S    OPINION    OF    BUNYAN.  261 

till  this  day  know  that  you  had  performed  before  me, 
the  motive  which  induced  me  to  accept  the  offer  was 
pure  liking  for  the  task,  out  of  pure  love  for  the  author 
and  the  book. 

"  Had  I  known  of  your  edition,  I  should  certainly  and 
at  once  have  declined  the  proposal.  But  I  am  glad  that 
I  did  not  know  it :  ignorance,  which  in  some  cases  is  said 
to  be  bliss,  has  been  good  fortune  here.  Yours  is  a  criti- 
cal essay,  mine  will  be  a  biographical  one ;  and  we  shall 
have  nothing  in  common  but  the  desire  to  do  honor  to  the 
author,  and  to  introduce  the  book  into  new  circles  (if  that 
can  be),  except  what  I  shall  borrow  from  you  thankfully. 

"  I  will  take  care  that  a  copy  of  my  intended  edition 
shall  be  sent  to  you  as  soon  as  it  is  ready,  which  the  pub- 
lisher intends  it  to  be  in  the  end  of  autumn. 

"  I  am  almost  hopeless  when  I  ask,  Will  you  come  and 
see  me,  and  let  me  row  you  on  the  lake,  and  guide  you 
uj:>on  some  of  these  mountains  ?  You  are  not  in  harness 
now;  and  I,  who  shall  never  be  out  of  it,  have  always 
leisure  to  enjoy  the  company  of  a  friend.  I  am  going  with 
my  family  to  the  Isle  of  Man  for  change  of  air  and  sea- 
bathing, which  may  benefit  some  of  my  daughters,  and 
also  was  a  needful  removal  for  myself,  when  the  hot 
weather  comes,  to  prevent  or  cut  short  that  troublesome 
periodical  disease  which  is  now  known  by  the  name  of  the 
Hay-asthma,  and  the  habit  of  which  I  hope  I  have  weak' 
encd,  if  not  broken,  by  travelling  at  the  time  of  its  recur 
rence.  Our  stay  will  not  be  extended  beyond  the  end  of 
June.  If  you  come  to  us  in  July  —  the  earlier  the  better 
—  you  shall  have  a  cordial  welcome ;  and  you  shall  find 
me  the  same  person  in  private  that  you  have  known  me 
in  print.  Last  year  I  underwent  an  operation  which  has 
restored  me  to  the  free  use  of  my  strength  in  walking, 


262  LIFE   OF   MONTGOMERY. 

after  being  crippled  many  years  by  a  sore  infirmity:  I 
thank  God  it  has  been  effectually  removed,  and  I  am  once 
more  a  sound  man,  able  to  accompany  you  for  a  whole 
day's  excursion.  If  you  have  not  seen  this  country,  you 
ought  to  see  it ;  and  if  you  have,  you  will  know  it  is  worth 
seeing  again.  And  I  should  like  to  show  you  the  books 
which  are  the  pride  of  my  eye  and  the  joy  of  my  heart, 
the  only  treasure  which  I  have  ever  been  anxious  of  heap- 
ing together,  and  to  read  to  you  the  papers  which  I  have 
in  progress,  and  to  tell  you  the  projects  —  so  many  of 
which  death  will  cut  short  —  of  which  I  have  dreamt,  or 
still  hope  to  execute,  and  to  talk  with  you  of  many  things. 
Now  tell  me  you  will  come,  and  believe  me  yours,  always 
with  affectionate  respect  and  regard, 

"  Robert  Sotjthey." 

"We  find  Montgomery  a  few  weeks  later  in  Keswick,  but 
not  in  response  to  this  cordial  invitation.  In  company 
with  Mr.  Rowland  Hodgson,  he  is  going  north  in  behalf 
of  the  Bible  cause,  and  their  route  lay  through  Keswick, 
whose  scenery  and  society  had  a  double  claim  upon  the 
poet's  heart. 

Of  his  journey  and  enjoyments,  let  us  hear  from  himself: 
"  We  attended  six  Bible  meetings  between  Monday  and 
Friday,  and  yesterday  was  the  first  breathing  time  that  we 
could  really  enjoy ;  yet  the  enjoyment  was  perhaps  the 
hardest  fatigue  we  have  yet  undergone.  Some  kind  ladies, 
who  accompanied  us  from  Kendal,  made  a  party  for  an 
excursion.  We  breakfasted  on  the  banks  of  Windermere, 
travelled  over  the  intervening  hills  to  Grasmere,  and 
thence  to  Rydal,  concluding  the  round  by  a  visit  to  Mr. 
Wordsworth,  so  that  my  spirits  were  sufficiently  exhausted 
on  our  return  hither  to  justify  a  ramble  alone  to  recruit 


AMONG    THE    LAKES    AND    "LIONS."  263 

them ;  and  then  going  further  than  I  intended,  the  oppor- 
tunity of  writing  to  Sheffield  was  gone  by ;  and  thus,  as  I 
have  said,  a  moment  lost  is  lost  forever ! 

"  I  have  little  to  say  concerning  myself  since  I  came 
away.  I  might  make  many  complaints  of  personal  infir- 
mities, and  mental  sufferings,  and  so  forth,  which  are  my 
daily  crosses  when  I  am  from  home,  and  make  travelling, 
with  all  its  healthful  exercise  and  exhilarating  changes 
of  scene  and  society,  little  better  than  penance  and  pil- 
grimage to  me ;  though  in  retrospect  it  always  furnishes 
abundant  materials  for  thought,  for  thankfulness,  and  for 
hope  also.  Mercy  and  goodness  hitherto,  as  on  all  former 
occasions,  have  followed  me  every  step  of  the  way;  and 
the  close  of  every  stage  and  every  day  I  have  had  cause 
to  be  humble  and  happy,  though  too  often  I  have  been 
neither  one  nor  the  other,  as  I  ought  to  be.  I  cannot 
to-day  —  indeed,  it  must  be  put  off  till  I  can  do  it  with 
the  living  voice  —  give  you  any  particulars  of  our  adven- 
tures: there  have  been  none  of  a  romantic  character,  nor 
any  descriptive  of  the  scenery  which  we  have  noticed,  — 
indeed,  we  are  only  just  entering  into  Lake-land ;  the 
promise  is  great,  and  it  will  be  my  own  fault  if  I  am  dis- 
appointed. I  may  just  say  that  I  have  seen  the  greatest 
lion  here,  — Wordsworth  ;  and  the  dens  of  two  others,  — 
the  Opium  Eater's,  and  Professor  Wilson's  (Christopher 
North).  Wordsworth's  house  and  grounds  are  all  that 
a  poet  could  wish  for  in  reason  and  reverie ;  for  after 
having  seen  them  and  him,  I  said  they  were  more  beauti- 
ful and  appropriate  than  he  himself  could  have  invented 
if  he  had  the  whole  lakes,  mountains,  and  all,  to  have 
called  into  an  arrangement  of  his  own,  in  the  happiest 
mood  of  his  own  mind.  De  Quincey's  cottage  is  a  little 
nutshell  of  a  house ;  but  though  I  could  discern  nothing 


264  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

attractive  about  it,  I  should  have  been  glad  to  have 
peeped  in,  if  I  could  have  been  to  him  what  he  was  to 
me  —  invisible.  Professor  Wilson's  is  a  small,  handsome 
house  and  pleasure  ground,  of  which  I  merely  caught  a 
glimpse,  as  we  rolled  through  the  dust  of  the  road  be- 
fore the  slope  on  which  it  stands." 

To  Sarah  Gales  at  Sheffield : 

"This  day  (June  11),  immediately  after  reading  Mr. 
Bennett's  and  Mr.  Wilberforce's  letters  —  both  of  which  I 
shall  duly  answer  —  I  set  out,  with  Mr.  Hodgson's  two 
servants  and  a  guide,  to  Skiddaw,  though  I  had  some 
of  the  weight  of  Helvellyn  yet  on  my  shoulders.  The 
morning  was  fine,  but  the  prospect  below  was  hazy,  and 
my  mind  was  too  much  occupied  with  the  South  Sea  Is- 
lands, and  all  the  strange  and  savage  lands  and  oceans 
which  our  friend  had  visited  during  his  eight  years'  cir- 
cumnavigation of  the  world,  to  notice,  as  I  otherwise 
might  have  done,  the  immensity  of  land  and  sea,  in 
every  diversity  of  form,  that  lay  beneath  my  feet.  On 
the  very  summit,  after  I  had  breathed  my  fervent  thanks- 
giving to  God  for  all  the  goodness  and  mercy  that  had 
accompanied  him  on  all  his  way,  I  wrote  his  name  on  a 
slate-stone  with  a  lead  pencil,  and  the  date  of  his  landing 
in  England.  This  I  threw  upon  a  pile  that  supports  the 
flag-staff  on  the  highest  peak ;  and  though  mortal  eye 
may  never  see  the  record,  and  the  first  shower  may  ef- 
face it,  I  felt  something  more  than  romantic  pleasure  in 
writing  and  leaving  this  memorial  there  of  the  best  intel- 
ligence which  we  have  received  from  him  since  he  sailed, 
—  his  happy  return  home.  Thomas,  Joseph,  and  I  then 
heartily  drank  his  good  health  and  safe  convoy  to  Shef- 
field in  pure  brandy,  for  we  could  not  find  a  drop  of 
water  to  dilute  it.    The  vast  convexity  of  the  mountain 


LETTER  TO  JOHN  HOLLAND.       265 

is  covered  with  thin  broken  pieces  of  slate,  the  storms 
of  aeres  having  shattered  the  original  crest  of  rock.  I 
thought  it  looked  like  the  field  of  the  battle  of  Armaged- 
don, strewn  with  the  splinters  of  swords,  and  shields,  and 
the  wreck  of  armor,  long  after  the  bodies  of  the  slain 
had  been  devoured  by  the  fowls  of  heaven.  Farewell, 
God  bless  you !" 
To  John  Holland : 

"Xirkby  Lonsdale,  June  20,  1829. 
"  My  Dear  Friend, 

"  Your  kind  letter  reached  me  at  Penrith  on  Monday 
morning.  We  have  had  such  a  week  of  hurry  and  jour- 
neying from  place  to  place,  and  I  have  been  occasionally 
so  unwell  from  anxiety  among  strangers,  and  exhaustion 
from  thinking  to  little  purpose,  and  speaking  I  hope  not 
always  to  none,  that  I  have  had  neither  spirit  nor  leisure 
to  write.  Even  kindness  —  and  nothing  but  kindness  have 
we  experienced  —  is  oppressive  to  one  so  framed  as  I  am ; 
and  though  I  am  full  of  complaints  at  this  moment,  yet 
if  I  were  to  utter  them  they  would  be  all  against  myself, 
and  would  probably  awaken  very  imperfect  sympathy  in 
the  minds  of  those  most  willing  to  compassionate  me,  — 
for  I  hope  they  would  be  scarcely  intelligible.  I  will 
therefore  say  no  more  concerning  them.  Arrangements 
have  been  made  for  Bible  meetings  on  four  successive 
days  next  week,  from  Monday  to  Thursday  inclusive  ; 
and  if  we  happily  survive  so  much  exertion,  excitement, 
and  enjoyment,  as  they  promise,  — judging  by  what  simi- 
lar opportunities  have  already  produced  or  required, — 
we  hope  to  reach  Sheffield  on  Saturday  afternoon,  June 
27,  by  way  of  Settle,  Skipton,  Colne,  Bradford,  Wake- 
field, and  Barnsley,  Please  to  request  Mr.  Blackwell  to 
23 


266  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

forward  the  Iris,  addressed  to  me,  at  the  Post  Office, 
Skipton,  where  any  letter  from  home  may  also  meet  me 
if  despatched  not  later  than  Tuesday,  after  which  it  will 
be  uncertain  where  I  may  be  caught.  You  mention  the 
haunts  of  poets  among  the  mountains  where  I  have  been 
wandering ;  and  I  doubt  not,  if  you  had  been  in  my  cir- 
cumstances, you  would  have  much  more  benefited  by  the 
opportunity  of  indulging  honorable  curiosity  than  I  have 
done.  I  wish,  indeed,  I  had  more  of  your  spirit  than  I 
have  ;  for  I  am  sure  (if  I  understand  you  rightly)  I  should 
then  escape  many  miseries,  and  put  myself  in  the  way  of 
many  felicities,  instead  of  reversing  the  law  of  nature,  as 
I  often  do,  to  fall  from  mere  fear  of  them  into  the  former, 
and  shrink,  I  know  not  why,  from  the  latter,  even  when 
they  court  me.  However,  I  have  not  been  without  many 
delightful  lucid  intervals  since  I  left  home,  and  have  had 
the  hardihood  not  only  to  call  upon  Wordsworth,  with 
a  body-guard  of  fair  ladies,  and  a  poet,  the  son  of  a  poet, 
to  introduce  me ;  but,  on  the  last  day  of  our  stay  at  Kes- 
wick, I  ventured  to  rap  at  the  door  of  my  friend  the 
laureate,  though  I  knew  that  he  and  his  family  were 
gone  from  home;  but  I  heard  that  Mrs.  Coleridge  was 
keeping  house  for  him,  and,  on  the  ground  of  former  ac- 
quaintance with  her  husband,  I  j)lucked  up  courage  to 
introduce  myself  to  her,  and  avail  myself  of  the  opportu- 
nity of  looking  at  the  well-furnished  shelves  and  through 
the  windows  of  the  poet's  study.  His  house  and  library 
are  such  as  even  you,  with  all  your  moderation,  might 
be  forgiven  for  coveting  —  with  the  salvo,  that  he  should 
be  no  poorer.  But  I  cannot  give  any  particulars  here, 
writing  as  I  do  in  an  inn,  and  in  great  haste,  not  know- 
ing when  I  may  have  another  leisure  hour,  as  we  are 
going  off  almost  immediately  to  Casterton,  where  we  are 


AMONG   THE   MOUNTAINS.  267 

to  be  entertained  a  clay  or  two  in  the  hospitable  family 
of  W.  W.   Cams  Wilson,  father  to  the  Rev.  W.   Cams 
Wilson,  a  clergyman  in  this  neighborhood,  who  has  been 
several  times  at  Sheffield,  on  Christian   anniversary  occa- 
sions, and  of  whom  I  may  tell  you   something  more  on 
my  return.     I  think  I  mentioned,  in  my  last  letter  to  the 
Misses  Gales,  that  I  had   ascended   both   Helvellyn   and 
Skiddaw.      From   the  top  of  the  former  I  saw,  for   the 
first  time  since  I  left  it,  more  than  forty  years  ago,  my 
native  country.      Beyond  the  Sol  way  Frith   the   undulat- 
ing hills  of  Scotland,  in  a  blue-grey  line  (the  atmosphere 
being  very  hazy),  were   dimly  discernible.     I  had  not  cal- 
culated on  this ;  and  the  scene  took  me  so  by  surprise, 
that,  though  I  was  not  prepared  by  any  romantic  antici- 
pation, the  singular  motion  which  stirred  my  spirit  within 
me,  and  made   the  blood   in   my  veins,  as   it  were,  run 
back   to   the   fountain   from  which   they  were   filled,  was 
even  more  deeply  agitating  than  I  could  have  imagined. 
At  Keswick  I  had  the  yet  more  mysterious  pleasure  of 
shaking  hands  with  a  being  thrice  as  old  as  Methuselah 
(I  presume),  though  I  cannot  tell  the  age  of  the  invisible 
within  a   few   hundred   years.     And   it   ivas   an   invisible 
literally,  for  the  hand   that  I  grasped  came  out  of  dark- 
ness, and  was  the  color  of  darkness  —  'black,  but  comely;' 
it  was  a  left  hand,  and  evidently  that   of  a  female,   very 
small,    and   most   delicately    proportioned,    'With   fingers 
long,  and  fit  to  touch  the  lute.'     Yet  neither  the  lady's 
age,   nor  the  beauty  of  that   specimen  of  herself  which 
was  presented  to  my  eye,  tempted  me  to  put  a  gold  ring 
on   the  wedding   finger.     I  cannot   describe   the   strange 
sensation  which  I  experienced  when  this,  the  hand  of  a 
mummy  (and  nothing  but  the  hand  of  a  mummy),  was 
put  into  mine,  and  I  examined  it  as  a  relic  of  a  fellow- 


268  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

creature,  cof  the  first  order  of  fine  forms,'  who  might 
have  been  Pharaoh's  daughter  herself,  or  her  maid,  and 
this  the  very  hand  that  first  touched  the  ark  of  bulrushes, 
and,  lifting  up  the  veil,  disclosed  the  face  of  the  infant 
Moses  to  the  compassionate  friends  — '  and  behold  the 
babe  wept.'  There,  I  must  leave  you  to  finish  the  pic- 
ture and  imagine  the  rest  of  my  reverie,  for  I  must 
conclude.  Pen  and  ink  are  both  so  bad  that  I  can 
scrawl  no  more,  and  my  time  is  gone.  I  was  on  a  jour- 
ney by  land  and  water  across  Windermere  and  the  inter- 
vening hills  to  the  head  of  Coniston  Water,  on  Whit 
Monday.  In  a  lovely,  lonely  lane  near  the  latter,  I  walked 
during  the  teachers'  meeting  in  the  afternoon.  My  heart 
overflowed  with  affectionate  remembrance  of  the  occasions 
on  which  I  had  in  former  years  spent  so  many  happy 
hours,  and  my  prayers  were  fervently  offered  for  you 
all.  Pray  give  my  kindest  regards  to  my  dear  friends  in 
the  Hartshead.  If  I  do  not  write  to  them  again  they 
may  expect  me  this  day  fortnight,  as  above  intimated. 
Remember  me  respectfully  to  Mr.  Blackwell  and  Mr. 
Pvoberts." 

We  do  not  learn  exactly  when  the  two  friends  returned 
to  Sheffield  ;  the  latest  date  of  any  memento  of  their  tour 
is  that  of  the  following  lines,  composed  for  Miss  Elizabeth 
Cams  Wilson,  of  Casterton,  on  the  anniversary  of  her 
birthday,  June  22,  1829: 

"  Another  year  of  trial  here 

At  length  has  passed  away ; 
But  Mercy  crowned  its  weary  round 

With  one  more  Sabbath  day  ; 
Though  each  had  been  a  day  of  grace, 
It  was  the  last  that  won  the  race. 


BIRTHDAY    STANZAS.  269 

"  When  suffering  life  shall  end  its  strife 

In  death's  serene  repose ; 
Be  Sabbath  rest,  on  Jesus'  breast, 

Its  everlasting  close ; 
Your  daily  cross  may  you  lay  down, 
To  gain  an  everlasting  crown !  " 


23 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

RETURN  OF  MR.  BENNETT DEATH  OF  DANIEL,  TYREMAN —  EDITORIAL 

DUTIES  —  LETTER  OF  ADVICE  TO  A  YOUNG  POET  —  LECTURES  IN  LON- 
DON UPON  POETRY  —  DR.  MILNOR  —  VOYAGES  AND  TRAVELS  OF  TYRE- 
MAN  AND  BENNETT  —  LETTER  TO  SAMUEL  DUNN  —  ANTI-SLAVERY 
REJOICINGS. 

On  the  5th  of  June,  1829,  Mr.  Bennett  landed  at  Deal, 
and  the  following  morning  proceeded  to  London,  from 
whence  he  wrote  to  Montgomery: 

"  This  is  '  my  dear,  my  native  land ! »     Bless  the  Lord, 

0  my  sonl !  and  forget  not  all  his  benefits !  As  we  pro- 
ceeded from  Deal  to  Margate,  surely  never  landscape  ap- 
peared more  beautiful  to  human  being  than  all  the  country 
did  to  me ;  'the  eye  was  never  satisfied  with  seeing  nor 
the  ear  with  hearing'  the  rural  sights  and  rural  sounds 
which  convinced  my  heart  that  I  was  at  length  got  home. 
The  grass,  the  flowers,  the  trees,  in  gardens,  fields,  and 
hedgerows,  all  English  in  color,  and  form,  and  fragrance, 
especially  the  golden  clusters  of  the  laburnum,  and  the 
prodigality  of  'milk-white  thorn,'  reminded  me  of  all  that 

1  had  loved  in  youth,  and  was  now  again  privileged  to  be- 
hold and  enjoy  after  years  of  absence  in  strange  climes." 

On  the  11th  Montgomery  writes  to  Bennett : 
"  Your  last  letter,  and  the  most  welcome  of  all  that  have 
been  received  from  you,  from  every  quarter  of  the  world, 


RETURN    OF    MR.    BENNETT.  271 

because  it  is  the  last,  and  written  on  British  ground, 
reached  me  at  this  place  just  when  I  was  setting  out  on  an 
expedition  to  the  top  of  Skiddaw.  I  hastily  read  it,  and 
with  a  heart  overflowing  with  joy  at  the  good  tidings 
which  it  brought  of  your  arrival,  I  proceeded  on  my  way, 
leaving  to  our  good  friend,  Mr.  R.  Hodgson,  to  occupy 
the  first  pages  of  a  letter  of  congratulation,  which  we  at 
once  determined  to  send  to  you,  on  your  long-wished-for 
and  now  happily-accomplished  return  to  your  native  coun- 
try. But  though  my  limbs,  with  the  occasional  help  of  a 
pony,  bore  me  to  the  height  of  the  magnificent  mountain 
above  named,  and  though  my  eyes  surveyed  an  immensity 
of  horizon,  comprehending  land  and  sea,  lakes,  rivers,  hills, 
and  woods,  in  the  richest  diversity,  all  spread  like  a  map 
beneath  my  feet,  my  mind,  but  especially  my  heart,  has 
been  engaged  with  you  all  the  forenoon ;  and  from  the 
stupendous  elevation  on  which  I  stood,  I  saw  not  only  the 
adjacent  portions  of  the  British  Isles,  which  every  eye  may 
see  on  any  clear  day  from  thence,  but  I  traced  you  all 
round  the  world,  and  the  isles  of  the  South  Seas,  New 
Zealand,  New  Holland,  China,  the  two  Indies,  Madagascar, 
South  Africa,  St.  Helena,  and  all  the  oceans  you  have 
crossed,  dividing  and  connecting  the  utmost  regions  of  the 
earth,  even  to  the  very  spot  where  you  landed  at  length 
on  our  own  dear  shores  —  all  these  were  present  to  my 
spirit,  and  in  each  of  these  I  could  perceive  that  goodness 
and  mercy  had  followed  you  all  the  days  of  your  long  ab- 
sence on  a  circumnavigation  of  charity,  the  first  that  has 
been  made  by  an  individual  since  man  fell,  and  the  promise 
of  a  Saviour  was  given.  I  will  not  flatter  you  ;  I  know  it 
will  humble  you  when  I  say  that  you  are,  in  this  respect, 
the  most  privileged  of  all  that  have  lived,  or  do  live,  hav- 
ing alone  done  what  never  was  before  attempted,  and  what 


272  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

your  late  honored  and  lamented  companion  was  not  al- 
lowed to  achieve  :  the  glory  thus  granted  to  you,  you  will 
lay  at  the  Redeemer's  feet,  and  say,  it  is  the  Lord's  doing 
that  I  have  been  exalted  to  do  this ;  and  to  his  name  be 
all  the  praise.  On  the  summit  of  Skiddaw,  under  the  blue 
infinity  of  heaven  above,  and  in  the  presence  of  the  widest 
compass  of  earth  I  ever  saw,  except  once  before,  I  laid  my 
thank-offering  on  that  altar  not  made  with  hands,  to  Him 
who  has  been  the  refuge  of  his  people  through  all  genera- 
tions ;  to  Him  who,  c  before  the  mountains  were  brought 
forth,  ivas  God?  I  laid  my  thank-offering  to  Him  there, 
for  all  the  deliverances  which  He  has  wrought  for  you, 
for  all  the  mercies  he  has  conferred  upon  you,  for  all  the 
good  which  I  believe  has  been  done  by  you,  during  your 
long  labors  and  many  sufferings,  and  especially  for  this  last 
evidence  of  his  loving-kindness  towards  you,  and  towards 
us,  too,  in  answering  our  prayers,  and  bringing  you  safe  to 
our  OAvn  land  and  yours  ;  and  my  heart's  desire  and  prayer 
for  you  was,  that  you  may  yet  long  be  spared  to  tell  of  his 
goodness  and  his  wonderful  works.  Mr.  Hodgson  has  so 
fully  expressed  my  feelings  in  expressing  his  own,  that  I 
need  add  nothing  further  than  '  God  bless  you!"*  Yea, 
and  you  shall  be  blessed." 

Mr.  Bennett  returned  alone,  after  an  absence  of  eight 
years,  his  excellent  colleague  in  the  deputation,  Rev. 
Daniel  Tyreman,  having  died  at  Madagascar  on  his  way 
home,  July  30,  1828. 

The  Independent  chapel  at  Newport,  in  the  Isle  of 
Wight,  where  for  seventeen  years  he  was  a  faithful  min- 
ister of  the  Gospel,  reared  a  monument  to  his  memory, 
with  an  inscription  by  Montgomery,  expressing  the  fullness 
of  trust  with  which  the  dying  minister  gave  himself  into 
the  keeping  of  a  faithful  and  unchanging  God : 


NEW   EDITORIAL    DUTIES.  273 

"  '  The  covenant  of  grace  '  shall  stand 

When  heaven  and  earth  depart ; 
On  this  he  laid  his  dying  hand, 

And  clasped  it  to  his  heart. 
In  a  strange  land,  where  sudden  death 

Stopt  his  unfinished  race, 
This  was  the  plea  of  his  last  breath  — 

'  The  covenant  of  grace.'  " 

The  copious  journals  of  the  Deputation  were  now  in 
the  hands  of  the  London  Missionary  Society,  to  be  recast 
for  publication.  A  suitable  editor  was  needed,  and  Mr. 
Montgomery  was  selected  for  the  task,  a  work  which  he 
undertook  with  alacrity,  from  the  strong  hold  which  both 
the  Deputation  and  its  object  had  upon  his  personal  affec- 
tions and  Christian  sympathies. 

Some  idea  of  the  amount  of  labor  to  be  done  may  be 
gained  by  thinking  of  reducing  fifty  manuscript  volumes  to 
a  moderate  size  for  publication. 

"  Most  of  my  leisure  time  for  three  months,"  he  tells  us, 
when  fairly  on  it,  "  has  been  employed,  and  it  will  take  at 
least  nine  months  more  to  complete  it.  I  therefore  must 
stay  at  home,"  he  says  to  the  solicitations  of  his  out-of-town 
friends,  "  or,  if  I  go,  take  my  work  with  me." 

Christmas,  with  the  close  of  the  old  year  (1829),  and  the 
beginning  of  the  new,  was  passed  with  Mr.  Bennett  at  the 
house  of  his  friend's  nephew,  Mr.  M'Coy,  at  Hackney,  a 
little  village  on  the  edge  of  the  metropolis. 

A  memorial  of  the  visit,  introducing  us  to  the  young 
host  and  his  family  is  pleasantly  jotted  down  by  their  poet 
guest : 


274  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

"FOR   MRS.    EDWARD   M'COY. 

"  Thus  hath  the  man  of  wisdom  spoken  ; 
'A  threefold  cord  is  not  soon  broken.1 "  —  Pro  v. 

"  Three  lines  of  life  entwined  in  one 

The  poet's  eye  can  see, 
From  Time's  swift  wheel,  by  moments  spun, 
To  reach  infinity. 

"  The  first  your  own,  my  gentle  friend, 

Then  his,  whom  you  call  '  lord ; ' 
The  third,  your  hate's  ;  these  softly  blend, 
And  form  a  threefold  cord. 

"  Long  may  they  thus  together  hold 

In  sweet  communion  here, 

Ere  each  in  turn,  infirm  and  old, 

From  earth  shall  disappear. 

"  But  must  they  then  be  sundered  ?    No, 

Like  mingling  rays  of  light, 
Where  heaven's  eternal  splendors  glow, 
These  fragments  shall  unite, 

"  To  form  a  threefold  cord  above, 

By  Mercy  interwound, 
And  to  the  throne  of  sovereign  love 
Indissolubly  bound. 

"  My  wish,  prayer,  hope,  these  words  betoken, 
That  threefold  cord  be  '  never '  broken. 

"Ilackney,  January  13,  1830." 

This  letter  is  to  Mr.  Bennett,  at  Tryon's  Place,  Hackney  : 

"Sheffield,  January  28,  1830. 
"My  Dear  Friend, 

"  At  length  I  have  an  opportunity  of  sending  a  line  to 


LETTEIi    TO    BENNETT.  275 

you,  to  say  on  paper  what  my  heart  has  said  a  hundred 
times  in  your  presence,  if  you  could  have  heard  it  speak, 
when  we  were  together  of  late,  side  by  side  in  coaches, 
arm  in  arm  on  open  roads,  or  threading  the  everlasting 
mazes  of  those  live  labyrinths,  the  streets  of  London,  or 
—  for  I  must  go  a  little  further  —  when  we  have  sat  to- 
gether in  the  house  of  God,  or  face  to  face  at  the  hos- 
pitable fireside  in  Tryon's  Place  [Hackney]  and  elsewhere. 
Turn  back  to  the  first  four  lines  of  the  antecedent  con- 
nection —  how  much  I  felt  myself  indebted  to  your  deli- 
cate, yet  assiduous  and  persevering  kindness  to  me,  on 
our  London  and  country  visits  during  the  severe  weather 
of  Christmas  and  the  new  year:  1829  and'  1830  were  ab- 
solutely frozen  together  at  the  meeting  points,  but  our 
hearts  were  not  frozen,  —  they  often  burned  within  us  by 
the  way,  wrhen  we  talked  of  those  things  that  were  most 
dear  and  precious  to  us  both.  I  am  glad  to  learn  from 
Mr.  M'Coy  that  you  continue  to  bear  the  sharp  wTinter 
cold  with  comparative  comfort,  notwithstanding  your  long 
residence  in  tropical  climates.  Your  mind  must  rule  your 
body ;  and,  as  it  has  a  firmness  for  endurance  beyond  that 
of  any  man  I  ever  knew,  it  surely  communicates  to  the 
body  a  temperature  which,  if  it  does  not  neutralize,  qual- 
ifies the  extremes  of  icy  rigor  and  torrid  fervor  to  itself. 
May  you  long  enjoy  the  blessing  of  a  sound  mind  in  a 
sound  body,  but  especially  of  a  heart  right  in  the  sight 
of  God,  which  shall  render  all  his  dispensations,  afflictive 
or  joyous,  right  in  your  sight.  This  is  the  Christian's 
secret  of  happiness ;  may  you  ever  be  in  possession  of  it 
in  this  world  of  trials,  where  faith  is  perpetually  put  to 
proof,  and  often  staggers,  not  at  the  promises  only,  but 
at  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  God,  from  our  frailty  and 
ignorance  in  judging  of  his  works  and  ways ! 


276  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

"But  I  hope  you  do  not  spend  all  your  time  in  the 
open  air,  breathing  and  bustling  through  vapors,  and 
clouds,  and  storms,  or  plunging  through  snow-drifts  ;  some 
of  it,  nay,  a  great  deal  of  it,  I  trust,  is  employed  in  read- 
ing those  delightful  manuscripts  which  I  left  with  you,  and 
in  writing  others  yet  more  delightful  for  my  use,  and  the 
future  benefit  of  the  public.  I  w^ant,  especially  at  this 
time,  at  least  as  soon  as  you  can  furnish  them,  accounts 
respecting  your  first  plunge  into  the  Pacific,  w7hen  your 
friend,  Mr.  Tyreman,  overturned  the  canoe,  in  mounting 
from  the  edge  on  board  of  the  ship  at  anchor,  the  ordi- 
nation of  Ouna  and  his  companion  for  the  mission  to  the 
Marquesas,  and  the  king  Horitia's  '  little  speech,'  &c,  and 
your  misadventure,  again,  when  attempting  to  land  on  one 
of  the  Sandwich  Islands.  Your  personal  feelings  and  situ- 
ation no  one  but  yourself  can  describe  in  the  first  and  latter 
of  these  cases.  Do  not  wrait  for  more  materials,  but  let 
me  have  these  at  your  earliest  convenience :  be  as  brief 
or  as  wordy  as  you  please.  The  other  subjects,  of  which 
I  left  memoranda  with  Mr.  M'Coy,  you  will  attend  to  in 
succession  ;  and  the  earlier  the  better  for  yourself,  for  me, 
and  for  the  work  with  which  I  am  proceeding  as  well  as  I 
can ;  but,  from  illness  since  my  return  home,  I  have  yet 
made  but  little  way,  having  been  becalmed  in  bed  for  the 
greater  part  of  last  week.  A  fresh  gale,  however,  has 
sprung  up,  and  in  a  day  or  two  I  expect  to  be  sailing 
with  full  canvas.  Send  me  your  help  by  furnishing  me 
with  matter  both  of  your  own  and  Mr.  Tyerman's.  At 
present  I  have  enough  to  go  on  with  of  the  latter ;  but 
when  you  have  gone  through  ten  volumes,  please  to  for- 
ward them  by  coach  to  me." 

"  I  certainly  do  not  make  haste,"  he  again  writes ;  "  but 


LITERARY    LABORS.  277 

yet  I  go  on  ;  and  if  not  with  good  speed,  at  least  with 
good  will,  and  unfailing  resolution  to  do  my  best  accord- 
ing to  circumstances.  The  labor,  however,  is  far  more 
minute  than  I  expected.  I  thought  that  little  more  than 
careful  abridgment  would  be  requisite ;  but,  in  truth  (ma- 
terials excepted),  it  costs  me  as  much  as  original  compo- 
sition. I  do  not,  however,  repent  the  undertaking,  and 
I  will  not  shrink  from  any  expense  of  time  and  thought 
to  do  justice,  if  possible,  to  the  subject,  and  credit  to  the 
cause.  When  you  come  down  at  Easter,  you  will,  of 
course,  bring  with  you  all  the  volumes  of  Mr.  Tyerman's 
Journal  you  may  have,  at  that  time,  looked  over.  .  .  . 
I  am  infirm  and  spiritless,  except  when  I  am  vexed  into 
something  like  strong  feeling  by  local  and  party  feuds, 
out  of  which  I  cannot  disentangle  myself,  and  in  which  I 
deliberately  involved  myself  at  first,  as  a  victim,  J  may 
say,  that  by  a  well-foreseen  sacrifice  of  personal  comfort, 
and  what  is  more  dear  to  me  than  pecuniary  interest,  — 
peace  of  mind,  —  I  might  mitigate  the  strife  of  tongues, 
and  the  civil  war  of  passions  and  prejudices,  in  this  town, 
on  the  subject  of  Water  Companies." 

An  out-spoken  letter  this,  in  reply  to  an  unfledged  poet 
asking  advice  from  a  veteran  bird : 

"Dear  Sir, 

"  I  am  almost  fretted  out  of  the  little  meekness  that 
remains  to  me  after  the  wear  and  tear  of  more  than  three- 
score years,  principally  by  literary  clients  who  think  be- 
cause they  often  see  my  name  in  print,  that  there  must 
needs  be  a  potency  in  it  not  only  to  command  fame  and 
fortune  for  the  owner,  but  to  recommend  all  who  can 
secure  the  sanction  of  it  in  any  way  to  the  same  enviable 

rewards  of  rhyming  labors.     '  All  is  not  gold  that  glitters.' 
24 


278  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

Had  not  a  bountiful  Providence  otherwise  loaded  me  with 
benefits,  in  my  humblest  estate,  equal  to  my  few  wants, 
poetry  would  not  have  enriched  me.  It  found  me  poor, 
and  it  would  have  kept  me  so  to  the  end,  unless  I  had 
pursued  its  reveries  in  a  very  different  path  from  that 
which  I  chose  after  the  folly  and  madness  of  youth  had 
taught  me  that  '  all  was  vanity  and  vexation  of  spirit.' 
Whether  '  fame  and  fortune '  would  have  been  mine  in  a 
greater  proportion  had  I  otherwise  practised  my  art,  I 
know  not,  and  regret  not  to  remain  ignorant;  but  hav- 
ing proved  for  myself  that  '  the  way  of  transgressors  is 
hard,'  I  am  deeply  and  humbly  thankful  that,  as  a  poet 
at  least,  I  endeavored  to  depart  from  it  before  an  accel- 
erated bias  had  carried  me  onward  to  irretrievable  ruin 
in  it.  It  is  not  that  I  am  unwilling  to  aid  young  aspirants 
in  their  early  exertions  —  I  have  the  will  and  not  the  power 
to  serve  them.  Hence,  instead  of  cheering  them  on  in 
their  course,  I  am  compelled  in  honesty  and  truth  to 
warn  them  against  too  great  reliance  either  on  their 
own  talents  however  promising,  or  the  patronage  of  the 
public  however  liberally-performing  in  those  splendid  cases 
which  are  the  exceptions  and  not  the  usage  of  the  arbitrary 
rule  in  the  Chancery  of  Parnassus,  wherein  wroe  to  the 
man  who  has  a  suit !  Whatever  be  the  equity  of  his  cause, 
it  may  last  him  —  not  to  say  it  may  cost  him  —  his  life; 
unless  he  abandons  it  after  the  first  decree  made  either 
in  his  favor  or  against  him — for  of  two  evils  the  last  is 
the  lesser :  if  the  judgment  be  against  him,  he  has  only 
lost  what  he  intended  to  win ;  if  he  wins,  what  does  he 
do?  retire  with  gains?  No,  he  hazards  another  stake, 
when  it  is  a  hundred  to  one  but  he  loses  what  he  had 
got,  and  thus  is  not  merely  disappointed  but  dishon- 
ored. 


ADVICE    TO   A   POETASTER.  279 

"  But  I  am  running  away  from  you  and  your  letter  while 
I  am  lamenting  over  other  correspondents  and  their  epistles, 
which  I  am  obliged  to  answer  by  breaking  to  their  hearts 
the  promises  which  they  themselves  made  to  their  hopes 
when  they  determined  to  make  me  their  counsellor  and 
their  guide  on  their  journey  up  ;  the  steep,'  so  '  hard  to 
climb,'  c  where  Fame's  proud  temple  shines  from  far.' 
Though  you  were  in  some  respects  one  of  this  number, 
and  I  may  have  more  than  once  made  your  heart  ache 
with  the  discouragements  which  I  have  in  compassion  as 
well  as  in  sincerity  thrown  in  your  way  as  a  candidate 
for  poetical  honors,  yet  as  you  have  other  views  and  other 
resources  in  your  literary  exercises  and  experiments,  I  may 
conscientiously  bid  you  go  forward,  and  congratulate  you 
on  having  chosen  a  better  part,  in  your  commendable  pur- 
poses to  benefit  your  generation,  than  by  concentrating 
your  energies,  and  perhaps  wasting  them  on  the  profitless 
labors  of  a  versifier.  You  have  been  happy  also  in  hav- 
ing apparently  formed  a  connection  with  a  publisher  of 
that  standing  and  respectability  which  affords  you  the 
chance  of  an  introduction  to  a  circle  or  class  of  readers 
both  numerous  and  influential ;  while  the  subjects  (those 
in  prose,  I  mean)  on  which  you  have  hitherto  written  are 
adapted  to  please  two  generations,  —  the  reigning  and  the 
rising,  whatever  be  their  lot  beyond  ;  for  as  posterity 
will  care  very  little  for  any  of  us  except  some  two  or 
three,  we  need  care  as  little  for  it :  its  favor  would  come 
too  late  to  make  us  vain,  and  its  neglect  will  not  break 
our  hearts  in  the  grave.  .  .  .  Don't  be  alarmed ;  I  am 
not  censuring  but  counselling,  having  had  no  little  expe- 
rience in  matters  of  this  kind,  and  wishing  to  benefit  you 
by  a  lesson  which  has  cost  me  dear.  On  no  theme,  whe- 
ther in  prose  or  rhyme,  ought  we  to  lavish  all  our  thoughts 


280  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

much  less  all  our  words,  no  more  than  all  our  good  thoughts 
in  corresponding  words,  but  select  the  best  only  of  each. 
Without  literally,  or  rather  servilely,  adhering  to  this  rule, 
yet  making  it  the  guide  of  your  pen  in  composition,  you 
will  gradually  acquire  a  clear,  spirited,  and  comprehensive 
diction  that  will  greatly  enhance  the  value  of  your  produc- 
tions  

"  I  am  truly  your  friend, 

"  J.  Montgomery. 
"  Mr.  Edward  Fair,  Iver,  near  Uxbridgc." 

In  May,  Montgomery  returned  to  London  to  deliver  a 
course  of  lectures  upon  English  Literature  before  the  Royal 
Institution. 

The  favor  with  which  these  were  received,  induced  the 
managers  to  engage  his  services  for  the  next  year,  when 
his  "Lectures  upon  Poetry"  were  given.  These  were 
published  two  years  afterwards,  and  republished  in  this 
country  by  Messrs.  Harper,  the  volume  forming  one  of 
their  series,  known  as  the  "  Family  Library." 

These  lectures  discuss  the  Preeminence,  the  Form,  the 
Diction,  the  various  Classes,  the  Themes,  and  the  Influences 
of  Poetry,  every  word  expressing  a  genuine  lover  of  the 
art,  and  a  just  discernment  of  both  its  expressible  and  its 
inexpressible  elements. 

"  Poetry,"  he  says,  "  is  the  eldest,  the  rarest,  and  the 
most  excellent  of  the  fine  arts.  It  was  the  first  fixed  form 
of  language ;  the  earliest  perpetuation  of  thought ;  it  ex- 
isted before  prose  in  history,  before  music  in  melody; 
before  painting  in  description;  and  before  sculpture  in 
imagery.  Anterior  to  the  discovery  of  letters,  it  was  em- 
ployed to  communicate  the  lessons  of  wisdom,  to  celebrate 
the  achievements  of  valor,  and  to  promulgate  the  sanctions 


VINDICATION    OF    "PIOUS   POETRY."         281 

of  law.  Music  was  invented  to  accompany,  and  painting 
and  sculpture  to  illustrate  it." 

The  verdict  of  Johnson  upon  "pious  poetry"  in  his  life 
of  Waller,  is  analyzed  and  dissented  from. 

"  In  the  end,"  he  says,  "  it  will  be  found  to  throw  light 
upon  a  single  point  only  —  a  point  on  which  there  was  no 
darkness  at  all  —  namely,  that  the  style  of  devotional 
poetry  must  be  suited  to  the  theme,  whether  that  be  a 
subject  of  piety,  or  a  motive  to  piety. 

"Those  who  will  take  the  trouble  to  examine  the  passage 
at  length  will  find  that  all  the  eloquent  dictation  contained 
in  it  affects  neither  argumentative,  descriptive,  nor  narra- 
tive poetry  on  sacred  themes,  as  exemplified  in  the  great 
works  of  Milton,  Young,  and  Cowper.  That  man  has 
neither  ear,  nor  heart,  nor  imagination  to  know  genuine 
poesy,  and  to  enjoy  its  sweetest  or  its  sublimest  influences, 
who  can  doubt  the  supremacy  of  such  passages  as  the 
'Song  of  the  Angels'  in  the  third,  and  the  'Morning 
Hymn  of  Adam  and  Eve'  in  the  fifth  book  of  'Paradise 
Lost ;'  the  first  part  of  the  ninth  book  of  the  '  Night 
Thoughts;'  and  the  anticipation  of  millennial  blessedness 
in  the  sixth  book  of  '  The  Task ; '  yet  these  are  on  sacred 
subjects,  and  these  are  religious  poetry.  There  are  but 
four  universally  and  permanently  popular  long  poems  in 
the  English  language  — '  Paradise  Lost,'  '  The  Night 
Thoughts, '  '  The  Task,'  and  '  The  Seasons.'  Of  these  the 
three  former  are  decidedly  religious  in  their  character; 
and  of  the  latter  it  may  be  said,  that  one  of  the  greatest 
charms  of  Thomson's  master-piece  is  the  pure  and  elevated 
spirit  of  devotion  which  occasionally  breathes  out  amid  the 
reveries  of  fancy  and  the  pictures  of  nature,  as  though  the 
poet  had  caught  sudden  and  transporting  glimpses  of  the 

Creator  himself  through  the   perspective   of  his  works ; 
24  * 


282  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

while  the  crowning  hymn,  at  the  close,  is  unquestionably 
one  of  the  most  magnificent  specimens  of  verse  in  any 
language,  and  only  inferior  to  the  insjrired  prototypes  in 
the  Book  of  Psalms,  of  which  it  is,  for  the  most  part,  a 
paraphrase.  As  much  may  be  said  of  Pope's  '  Messiah,' 
which  leaves  all  his  original  productions  immeasurably 
behind  it,  in  combined  elevation  of  thought,  affluence  of 
imagery,  beauty  of  diction,  and  fervency  of  spirit. 

"  It  follows,  that  poetry  of  the  highest  order  may  be 
composed  on  pious  themes  ;  and  the  fact  that  three  out  of 
the  only  four  long  poems  which  are  daily  reprinted  for 
every  class  of  readers  among  us,  are  at  the  same  time  re- 
ligious—  that  fact  ou2;ht  forever  to  silence  the  cuckoo-note 
which  is  echoed  from  one  mocking-bird  of  Parnassus  to 
another,  that  poetry  and  devotion  are  incompatible:  no 
man  in  his  right  mind,  who  knows  what  both  words  mean, 
will  admit  the  absurdity  for  a  moment." 

On  the  influence  of  the  poet,  he  thus  feelingly  and  elo- 
quently expatiates : 

"  He  holds  a  perilous  talent,  on  a  fearful  responsibility, 
who  can  invent,  combine,  and  fix  with  inseparable  union, 
words,  thoughts,  and  images,  and  give  them  motion  like 
that  of  the  planets  —  not  to  cease  till  the  heavens  shall  be 
dissolved,  and  the  earth,  with  the  works  therein,  burnt 
up.  Is  there  a  power  committed  to  man  so  great?  Is 
there  one  that  can  be  more  beneficently  or  more  malig- 
nantly exercised  ?  The  deeds  of  warriors,  the  decrees  of 
princes,  the  revolutions  of  empires,  do  not  so  much,  so 
immediately,  so  permanently  affect  the  moral  character, 
the  social  condition,  the  weal  and  the  woe  of  the  human 
race,  as  the  lessons  of  wisdom  or  folly,  of  glory,  virtue, 
and  piety,  pride,  revenge,  depravity,  licentiousness,  and 
the  converse  of  these —  in  the  writings  of  those  mysterious 


EXCHANGE    OF    CHRISTIAN    COURTESIES.     283 

beings  who  have  an  intellectual  existence  among  us,  and 
rule  posterity,  not  '  from  their  urns,'  like  dead  heroes, 
whose  acts  only  are  preserved  in  remembrance,  but  by 
their  very  spirits  living,  breathing,  speaking  in  their  works ; 
therein  holding  communion  with  the  spirits  of  all  who  read 
or  hear  their  syren  or  their  seraph  strains ;  and  thus 
becoming  good  or  evil  angels  to  successive  generations, 
tempting  to  vice  and  crime,  to  misery  and  destruction  ;  or 
leading  through  ways  of  pleasantness  and  paths  of  peace. 
Millions  of  thoughts  and  images,  fixed  in  the  palpable 
forms  of  words,  and  put  into  perpetual  motion  by  these 
benefactors  or  scourges  of  their  species,  are  passing  down 
in  the  track  of  time,  upon  the  length  and  breadth  of  the 
whole  earth,  blessing  or  cursing  the  people  of  one  age  after 
another;  and  let  authors  tremble  at  the  annunciation, 
perpetuating  the  righteousness  of  aggravating  the  quiet 
of  men  whose  bones  are  in  the  sepulchre,  and  their  souls 
in  eternity." 

It  was  at  the  anniversary  season  of  this  year  (1830)  that 
Dr.  Milnor,  of  New  York,  appeared  as  a  delegate  from  the 
American  Bible  Society  to  the  British  and  Foreign  Bible 
Society,  the  first  public  interchange  of  Christian  sym- 
pathies between  these  noble  institutions. 

When  the  purport  of  his  visit  was  made  known,  he  was 
made  the  bearer  of  greetings,  and  commissions  of  a  simi- 
lar nature,  from  the  Tract  Society,  Sunday-school  Union, 
Board  of  Foreign  Missions,  and  other  kindred  associations 
to  their  twin-sisters  on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic. 

Here  he  met  Wilberforce  and  Rowland  Hill,  Fowell 
Buxton,  Bickersteth,  Gurney,  Dr.  Chalmers,  Wilson,  Mont- 
gomery, whose  very  names  are  watchwords,  stirring  the 
soul  to  loftier  aims. 

Dr.  Milnor  was  present  at  the  Wesley  an  Missionary  So- 


284  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

ciety,  the  most  "  animating  public  meeting "  lie  ever  at- 
tended. Freemason's  Hall  was  crowded  with  gentlemen 
at  the  anniversary  of  the  Bible  Society.  George  Bennett 
was  in  the  chair  of  the  Sunday-school  Union,  and  Wilber- 
force  presided  over  the  Anti-Slavery  assembly;  gatherings 
where  party  names  were  forgotten,  and 

"  Each  fulfilled  their  part 
With  sympathising  heart" 

for  the  on-coming  kingdom  of  the  Lord. 

During  the  summer,  which  was  spent  in  travelling,  Dr. 
Milnor  visited  Sheffield,  and  had  several  delightful  inter- 
views with  Montgomery.  Both  in  public  and  private  they 
took  sweet  counsel  together.  At  a  meeting  of  the  Bible 
associations  of  the  city,  we  find  the  Doctor  on  the 
stand. 

"  Mr.  Montgomery,"  he  tells  us,  "  made  the  closing 
speech  with  a  warm  glow  of  feeling,  and  an  affectionate 
importunity  of  expression.  His  only  difficulty  seemed  to 
lie  in  finding  vent  for  the  flood  of  ideas  that  constantly 
rushed  upon  his  mind.  This  made  him  occasionally  stam- 
mer a  moment,  but  a  short  pause  always  restored  his 
self-possession ;  and  his  plain  but  forcible  delivery  riveted 
the  attention  of  his  hearers." 

After  a  few  days  in  a  "  loved  circle  of  Christian  spirits," 
Dr.  Milnor  parted  from  Montgomery  at  his  own  house, 
where  he  took  tea,  and  "passed  an  hour  and  a  half  in  de- 
lightful communion  of  feeling  with  this  gifted  poet  and 
most  devoted  Christian." 

He  met  also  Mr.  Holland,  author  of"  Summerfield's  Life," 
editor  of  the  Iris,  and  intimate  friend  of  the  poet,  whose 
biographer  he  afterwards  became. 

Another  expression   of   trans-Atlantic  respect   was  re- 


"JOURNAL  OF   TYREMAN  AND   BENNETT."       285 

ceived  a  few  months  later  by  Montgomery  —  a  certificate 
of  his  having  been  constituted  an  honorary  member  of 
the  American  Board  of  Commissioners  for  Foreign  Mis- 
sions by  the  payment  of  one  hundred  dollars  from  Henry 
Hill,  Esq.,  of  Boston,  Massachusetts.  It  bears  the  date  of 
January,  1832. 

On  the  first  of  June  appeared  in  two  handsome  octavo 
volumes,  comprising  upwards  of  a  thousand  pages,  the 
"  Journal  of  Voyages  and  Travels  by  the  Rev.  Daniel 
Tyerman,  and  George  Bennett,  Esq.,  deputed  from  the 
London  Missionary  Society  to  visit  their  various  stations 
in  the  South  Sea  Islands,  China,  India,  &c,  between  the 
years  1821  and  1829.  Compiled  from  original  documents 
by  James  Montgomery."  The  work  was  illustrated  with 
portraits  of  both  the  gentlemen  of  the  Deputation,  and 
about  a  dozen  views  of  scenery,  engraved  from  sketches 
made  by  Mr.  Tyerman.  In  the  preface  the  compiler  thus 
alludes  to  the  form  and  quality  of  the  materials  j)laced  at 
his  disposal : 

"  The  documents,  official  and  private,  from  which  these 
volumes  have  been  composed,  were  of  great  bulk,  and  ex- 
ceedingly multifarious.  They  consisted  of  a  journal  kept 
by  both  members  of  the  Deputation,  jointly  during  the  first 
two  years  of  their  travels,  and  a  separate  one  by  Mr.  Tyer- 
man, continued  nearly  to  the  day  of  his  death.  Mr.  Ben- 
nett subsequently  furnished  several  interesting  narratives 
and  other  valuable  contributions.  These  materials,  how- 
ever, were  so  extensive  and  miscellaneous,  as  well  as  so 
minute,  that  it  became  the  duty  of  the  compiler,  instead 
of  abridging  or  condensing  the  mass,  to  recompose  the 
whole  in  such  a  form  as  should  enable  him  to  bring  forth 
in  succession,  as  they  occurred  to  the  travellers  themselves, 
the  most  striking  and  curious  facts  relative  to  their  per- 


286  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

sonal  adventures,  or  which  came  to  their  knowledge  by 
the  way." 

This  work,  we  can  readily  conceive,  cost  Montgomery  a 
great  amount  of  patient  and  painstaking  labor ;  the  au- 
thentic and  valuable  information  which  it  gave  of  the 
Polynesian  world,  with  its  new  forms  of  life,  and  its  details 
of  one  of  the  most  striking  and  successful  experiments  in 
the  modern  history  of  Christianity,  make  it  a  work  of  no 
common  value. 

Local  causes  limited  its  circulation  in  England.  It  was 
republished  in  this  country,  and  read  with  the  deepest  in- 
terest ;  the  spirit  of  missions  received  a  new  quickening, 
and,  what  was  as  good,  it  inspired  increasing  confidence 
in  the  practicability  and  permanency  of  missionary  labor 
among  the  brethren. 

In  order  to  make  a  correct  estimate  of  an  individual, 
we  seek  to  learn  the  prevailing  tone  of  his  mind,  the  un- 
conscious influences  which  he  exerts  upon  society,  and  the 
light  in  which  he  views  passing  events.  These  will  disclose 
the  "  inner  man,"  which  is  the  only  true  and  genuine 
man. 

Intercourse,  in  a  strong  personal  friendship,  is  not  neces- 
sarily the  best  position  for  a  clear  discernment  of  charac- 
ter ;  for  the  partialities  of  friendship  are  likely  to  prove 
disturbing  forces. 

One  remove  from  this  is,  perhaps,  more  favorable :  when, 
in  sympathy  with  a  man's  principles  and  the  leading  aim  of 
his  life,  we  can  have  access  to  a  free,  copious,  and  life-long 
correspondence,  the  natural  out-gush  of  his  opinions  and 
feelings.  It  is  from  this  stand-point,  the  reader  has  already 
perceived,  that  we  have  endeavored  to  direct  his  eye  to 
Montgomery,  in  order  to  learn  as  far  as  possible,  from  per- 


RAVAGES  OF  THE  CHOLERA.        287 

sonal  intercourse,  the  character  and  environments  of  this 
Christian  poet. 

Letters,  and  paragraphs  from  letters,  jottings  by  the 
way,  therefore,  form  the  body  and  chief  interest  of  the 
present  work.  On  them,  floating  fragments  as  they  may 
seem,  we  flow  down  the  current  of  his  daily  life. 

No  apology  is  therefore  needed  for  drawing  largely 
on  his  letters,  although  deficient,  in  common  with  all  his 
prose,  in  simplicity,  directness,  and  vigor  of  style ;  for 
they  are  the  open  windows  of  his  soul,  through  which  is 
breathed  the  refined  and  fervent  sjririt  of  the  man. 

He  thus  writes  to  Mr.  Bennett : 

"You  must  be  aware,  from  the  newspapers,  that  since 
the  8th  of  July,  when  the  first  case  appeared,  that  new 
pestilence  which  both  walketh  in  darkness  and  destroyeth 
at  noon-day,  —  the  fearful  and  mysterious  cholera,  —  has 
been  smiting  down,  on  the  right  hand  and  on  the  left,  men, 
women,  children  here.  The  last  three  or  four  days  the 
number  of  new  patients  has  been  greatly  increased  beyond 
all  former  proportion, — a  hundred  since  Tuesday, — though 
the  mortality  has  not  kept  proportionate  pace.  The  whole 
return  this  day,  for  four  weeks  and  six  days,  is  352  cases, 
122  deaths,  145  remaining.  Coward  as  I  am  in  nerve  and 
muscle,  I  have  been  preserved  from  much  more  than  that 
fear  of  death  in  which  I  live  daily,  even  when  the  '  end  of 
all  things  here '  seems  farthest  off.  But  it  is  impossible  for 
flesh  and  blood,  united  to  soul  and  spirit,  not  to  be  deeply 
moved,  and  painfully  sensible  sometimes  of  that  mortality 
which  may  be  realized  to  the  hardiest  and  healthiest  of  us 
in  a  moment.  But  I  find  this  assurance  in  that  book  which 
contains  the  words  of  eternal  life,  — '  Thou  wilt  keep  him 
in  perfect  peace  whose  mind  is  stayed  on  thee,  because  he 
trusted  in  thee.'     God  bless  you  !" 


288  LIFE   OF   MONTGOMERY. 

Again : 

"  I  thank  you  for  the  amusing  variety  of  newspapers, 
&c,  which  you  inclosed  —  all  different  kinds  of  mirrors 
reflecting  the  aspect  of  the  times  [in  relation  to  the  ques- 
tion of  Parliamentary  Reform],  in  as  many  different  ways, 
as  to  shape,  color,  expression,  &c,  according  to  the  caprice 
of  those  who  fashion  such  things.  The  real  aspect  of  the 
times  grows  more  and  more  ominous,  to  use  a  heathen 
word ;  more  and  more  solemn  and  charged  with  warning, 
in  Christian  parlance.  O  may  we  be  able  to  look  at  it  '  as 
seeing  Him  who  is  invisible,'  and  thus  be  prepared  for 
whatever  it  foretells,  or  whatever  may  befal,  which  indeed 
is  more  than  the  wisest  observer  of  '  the  signs,'  concerning 
which  so  much  is  now  said,  can  guess;  clearly  as  the  fore- 
telling may  be  ascertained  when  the  issue  has  arrived. 
4  God  moves  in  a  mysterious  way : '  let  us  stand  still  that 
we  may  see  his  salvation,  or  move  at  his  signal,  —  to  use 
your  favorite  (and  approved  from  experience)  figure,  —  as 
the  pillar  or  the  cloud,  by  day  or  by  night,  leads  on.  .  .  . 
I  have  been  much  occupied  in  my  parlor  alone,  with  pre- 
paring Dante  and  Ariosto  for  Dr.  Lardner  :  the  manu- 
scripts of  both  have  been  sent  to  him." 

To  the  Rev.  Samuel  Dunn*  he  wTrites  as  follows,  under 
date  January  31,  1834: 

"  I  thank  you  for  the  gift  of  your  sermon  on  the  Witness 
of  the  Spirit.  It  is  a  very  able  train  of  argument  in  favor 
of  a  doctrine  which  cannot  be  disproved,  though  many 
difficulties  occur  with  respect  to  the  interpretation  of  what 
is  the  mode  in  which  that  witness  is  certified  to  the  be- 

*  Mr.  Dunn  was  at  this  period  one  of  the  "Wesleyan  preachers  stationed 
in  Sheffield.  He  was  expelled  the  Connexion  at  the  Conference  of  1849, 
along  with  Messrs.  Everett  and  Griffith ;  and  afterwards  became  the  min- 
ister of  an  Independent  congregation. 


THE   WITNESS    OF   THE    SPIRIT.  289 

liever,  or  in  which  he  receives  it,  and  knows  'the  sign 
infallible.'  My  own  mind  has  been  much,  and  often,  and 
painfully  exercised  concerning  that  evidence  so  desirable, 
so  necessary  for  inward  peace,  and  a  good  hope  through 
grace.  After  all,  each  must  have  the  witness  in  himself: 
1  God  is  his  own  interpreter '  here,  as  in  other  secret  things, 
4  and  he  will  make  it  plain.'  But  the  experience  of  one 
man  can  be  of  no  more  avail  to  another  than  confirming 
the  testimony  of  all  who  have  in  every  age  professed  to 
enjoy  it, — that  there  is  such  a  thing.  The  Scripture,  of 
course,  decides  the  question  as  to  the  fact ;  — I  am  alluding 
to  the  evidence  of  it,  whether  I,  for  myself,  have  obtained 
that  mercy  or  not.  It  is  indeed,  and  must  be  in  every 
case,  like  the  possession  of  that  '  white  stone,'  in  which  '  a 
new  name  is  written,  that  no  man  knoweth,  saving  he  who 
receiveth  it.'  And  this  stone  is  given  by  Him  who  sends 
the  Comforter  from  the  Father  to  those  who  are  adopted, 
through  faith  in  Him,  into  the  family  of  God.  JMy  heart's 
desire  and  prayer  for  myself  is,  that  as  conviction  of  sin, 
godly  sorrow,  repentance,  and  faith,  are  all  most  unques- 
tionably wrought  in  me  by  the  Holy  Spirit  of  God,  He 
may  also  not  let  me  rest  satisfied  with  less  assurance  of 
being  pardoned,  accepted  in  the  Beloved,  and  sanctified, 
than  the  Scriptures  warrant  me  to  expect,  and  consequently 
render  it  imperative  upon  me,  at  the  peril  of  my  soul  and 
salvation,  to  ask  and  to  seek,  that  I  may  receive  and  find. 

"  I  must  leave  these  few  imperfect  intimations  of  what 
has  been  and  is  to  me  a  source  of  much  spiritual  conflict, 
as  '  one  of  little  faith.'  * 

*  In  order  to  an  efficient  belief  in  Christianity,  a  man  must  have  been  a 

Christian  ;   and  this  is  the  seeming  argumen'um  in  circulo,  incident  to  all 

spiritual  truths,  to  every  subject  not  presentable  under  the  forms  of  time 

and  space,  as  long  as  we  attempt  to  master,  by  the  reflex  acts  of  the  un- 

25 


290  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

"  You  who  are  strong  will  know  bow  to  pity,  and  per- 
haps to  bear  with  my  infirmity ;  which  I  might  call  my 
besetting  sin,  were  it  not  that  so  many  others  might  dis- 
pute its  claim  to  that  distinction. 

"  I  have  no  more  doubt  of  the  communion  of  the  'Holy 
Ghost '  than  I  have  of  '  the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,' 
or  i  the  love  of  the  Father ;'  but  I  do  not  enjoy  it  as  I 
ought,  as  I  might,  and  as  I  pray  daily  that  I  may.  I  hail 
them  blessed  of  the  Lord  who  do  so,  and  who  believe  with 
the  heart  fully  unto  righteousness." 

In  reply  to  an  invitation  to  address  a  missionary  meeting 
at  Manchester,  on  Easter  week  (1834),  he  indicates  some- 
thing of  the  claims  upon  his  time  : 

"  Were  I  ever  so  wTell  able  otherwise  to  answer  your 
call,  I  have  three  annual  engagements  every  Easter  Monday 
to  detain  me  here,  and  '  a  threefold  cord  is  not  soon 
broken.'  Five  or  six  and  twenty  chimney-sweepers'  lads 
hold  one  of  the  twines ;  I  know  not  how  many  London 
missionaries  another ;  and,  for  aught  I  can  tell,  millions  of 
heathen,  among  whom  these  labor,  the  third.  In  plain 
English,  I  have  to  attend  a  public  missionary  breakfast  in 
the  morning,  and  an  anniversary  meeting  in  the  evening, — 
with  the  refreshing  interlude  of  a  dinner  on  roast  beef  and 
plum  pudding,  which  for  a  quarter  of  a  century  a  few  of  us 
have  given  to  the  climbing-boys  of  Sheffield." 

The  act  for  the  abolition  of  slavery  in  the  West  Indies 
received  the  royal  assent  in  August,  1833. 

The  provisions  of  that  act  are  well  known.  Children 
under  a  certain  age  were  made  free  at  once ;  while  for  the 
rest  a  plan  of  apprenticeship  was  adopted,  to  prepare  both 

derstanding,  what  we  can  only  know  by  the  act  of  becoming.  "  Do  the 
will  of  my  Father,  and  ye  shall  know  whether  I  am  of  God." — Coleridge's 
Biog.  Liter.,  vol.  ii.,  p.  303. 


EMANCIPATION   REJOICINGS.  291 

master  and  slave  for  the  new  issues  before  them,  extending 
to  1840,  when  slavery  was  absolutely  to  expire  in  the  Brit- 
ish possessions. 

"As  might  be  expected,"  says  the  English  biographer 
of  Montgomery,  "the  1st  of  August  was  a  day  of  triumph 
and  of  gratitude  with  the  friends  of  humanity  in  Great 
Britain,  as  well  as  with  the  negroes  in  the  colonies.  The 
muse  of  Montgomery  was  gladly  and  effectively  invoked 
on  the  occasion  ;  and  his  five  spirited  "  Songs  on  the  Abo- 
lition of  Negro  Slavery  in  the  British  Colonies  "  were  sung 
not  only  at  different  occasions  in  the  metropolis,  but 
through  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  land.  The  poet 
himself  took  personally  an  active  part  in  the  festival  pro- 
ceedings at  Sheffield.  In  the  forenoon  the  children  belong- 
ing  to  the  Lancasterian  schools  —  nearly  a  thousand  boys 
and  girls  —  assembled  to  sing  two  of  the  hymns  and  listen 
to  an  address  from  him." 

In  the  evening  he  presided  at  a  meeting,  where  about 
five  hundred  Christian  friends,  after  taking  tea  together, 
listened  to  an  address  even  more  fervent  and  animating: 
than  that  which  had  delighted  the  children  in  the  morning. 
"VVe  may  perpetuate  in  this  page  the  substance  of  a  single 
passage.  Holding  in  his  hand  a  large  printed  label  with 
the  words,  —  "  Slavery  Abolished,  August  1,  1834.  Thank 
God  !  "  —  the  speaker  said,  "  To  God  our  thanks  were  espe- 
cially due  on  this  occasion  for  the  glorious  event  he  had 
wrought ;  for  the  abolition  of  slavery  was  not  attributable 
either  to  patriots,  politicians,  or  to  poets,  but  to  Christians, 
in  their  character  as  such  ;  and  especially  was  it  to  the  suc- 
cessful efforts  of  the  missionaries  of  religion  that  the 
negroes  had  been  prepared  in  some  degree  for  these  bles- 
sings of  freedom  which  could  no  longer  be  withheld.  It 
was,"  added  Montgomery,  "  chiefly  owing  to  Satan  having 


292  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

ensnared  himself  in  his  own  toils,  that  the  emancipation  of 
the  negroes  resulted  just  now  —  his  emissaries  objecting 
to  the  preaching  of  the  Gospel  among  the  colored  people 
on  various  estates,  lest  they  should  attain  that  knowledge 
which  their  masters  despised,  and  by  this  means  pass  them 
by  in  morals  and  manners,  at  length  asserted  in  so  many 
words  the  great  truth,  that  slavery  and  Christianity  could 
not  exist  together.  The  very  sentiment  was  the  death 
knell  of  slavery :  from  the  moment  that  expression  was  ut- 
tered, it  was  no  longer  a  question,  in  heaven  or  upon  earth, 
whether  or  not  slavery  should  perish.  Slavery,  so  far  as 
Great  Britain  is  concerned,  has  perished  ;  and  from  this 
day  another  slave  destined  for  our  colonies  shall  never 
cross  that  ocean,  from  whose  mysterious  depths,  hundreds, 
and  probably  thousands,  who  have  been  thrown  overboard 
during  the  horrible  '  middle  passage,'  shall  rise  up  at  the 
last  trump,  perhaps  crying  for  mercy  upon  those  who  showed 
no  mercy  to  the  victims  of  their  cupidity  and  their  cruelty." 

It  would  have  been  almost  an  anomaly  twenty  years  ago, 
for  men,  pretending  to  intelligence  and  piety,  and  not  im- 
plicated in  the  pecuniary  question  of  slavery,  to  have  seri- 
ously urged  its  claims  as  a  divine  institution,  and  therefore 
to  be  perpetuated  and  extended.  In  relation  to  its  moral 
character  there  was  no  debate.  It  is  reserved  to  the 
superior  discernment  of  divines  and  statesmen  at  the 
present  day,  to  apprehend  its  divinities,  since  common 
sense  and  common  Christianity  have  pronounced  a  unan- 
imous verdict  that  it  does  not  justly  belong  to  the  human- 
ities of  life. 

A  poet  might  well  be  inspired,  who  could  sing,  as  did 
Montgomery  in  the  following  stanzas,  a  consummation  so 
honorable  to  his  country,  so  joyful  in  its  Christian  signifi- 
cance : 


EMANCIPATION    STANZAS.  293 

"  Ages,  ages  have  departed, 

Since  the  first  dark  vessel  bore 
Afric's  children,  broken-hearted, 
To  the  Caribbean  shore  ; 

She,  like  Rachel, 
Weeping,  for  they  were  no  more. 

"  Millions,  millions  have  been  slaughtered 
In  the  fight  and  on  the  deep  ; 
Millions,  millions  more  have  watered, 
With  such  tears  as  captives  weep, 

Fields  of  travail 
Where  their  bones  till  doomsday  sleep. 

"  Mercy,  Mercy,  vainly  pleading, 

Rent  her  garments,  smote  her  breast, 
Till  a  voice,  from  heaven  proceeding, 
Gladdened  all  the  gloomy  west : 

'  Come,  ye  weary  ! 
Come,  and  I  will  give  you  rest !' 

"  Tidings,  tidings  of  salvation ! 
Britons  rose  with  one  accord, 
Purged  the  plague-spot  from  our  nation, 
Negroes  to  their  rights  restored  : 

Slaves  no  longer, 
Free-men  —  Free-men  of  the  Lord  1" 


25 


CHAPTER    XV. 

INVITATION  TO  VISIT  THE  UNITED    STATES  —  PROFESSORSHIP  OF  RHETORIC 

—  MRS.      HOFLAND — DORA      "WORDSWORTH'S      ALBUM  —  THE     MOUNT 

SCOTT LECTURING — LETTER      TO      MR.      BENNETT  —  DEATH      OF     MR. 

HODGSON CHRISTIAN       CORRESPONDENT      AT      LONDON  —  DEATH      OF 

ANNA    GALES  —  LIFE   OF   SCOTT. 

In  1835,  Mr.  Bennett  renewed  an  invitation  to  the  poet, 
made  a  year  or  two  before,  to  visit  the  United  States, 
offering  to  defray  the  expenses  of  the  journey.  The  offer 
was  not  without  its  strong  attractions.  Besides  his  friends, 
the  Galeses,  with  whom  a  constant  family  intercourse  had 
subsisted  through  the  sisters,  he  could  presume  upon  a 
cordial  welcome  from  numerous  others,  to  whom  "  he  was 
unknown  and  yet  known." 

Two  eminent  Americans,  "  who  being  dead,  yet  speak," 
he  had  introduced  to  the  English  public,  having  written 
prefaces  to  the  memoirs  of  Mrs.  Huntington,  of  Boston, 
and  the  distinguished  missionary,  David  Brainerd, — works 
republished  by  Collins,  of  Glasgow.  No  one  could  more 
fully  appreciate  their  distinct  and  peculiar  excellences. 
Marked  women  and  blue-stockings,  the  poet  dreaded.  He 
loved  the  gentler  and  more  womanly  traits,  blooming 
in  social  sweetness  at  home,  and  adorning  the  ways  of  the 
household  with  the  tapestry  of  well-spent  hours.  Mrs. 
Huntington,  "  endowed  with  no  splendid  talents,"  and  the 


INABILITY   TO   VISIT    AMERICA.  295 

subject  of  no  extraordinary  incident,  yet  possessing  some- 
thing more  excellent  and  attainable  by  all,  a  piety  rising 
into  grace,  expanding  into  beauty,  and  flourishing  hi  use- 
fulness from  infancy  to  youth,  and  youth  to  womanhood, 
he  presented  as  a  model  to  her  sex.  The  preface  was 
closed  by  a  poem,  published  in  his  volumes  under  the 
title  Lot  of  the  Hichews.  In  his  essay  on  Brainerd, 
Montgomery  refutes  the  maxim,  "  first  civilize,  then  Chris- 
tianize," confronting  it  with  all  the  success  which  has  at- 
tended missionary  enterprise.  The  divine  element,  which 
so  closely  allied  the  missionary  to  the  spiritual  and  unseen, 
and  poured  such  a  fervent  efficacy  into  all  his  labors,  no 
one  could  more  fully  comprehend  and  love. 

But  what  answers  does  he  make  to  the  generous  pro- 
posals of  his  friend  ? 

"It  is  so  much  harder  to  say  'wo'  than  ' yesf  "  he  says, 
yet  "  no  "  it  was,  for  he  was  then  engaged  in  preparing  a 
new  and  uniform  edition  of  his  poems  "  at  a  moderate 
price,  suited  to  the  depreciated  value  of  such  commodities 
in  the  market."  "  And  as  his  hands  were  a  prisoner  to  the 
soil,  so  was  his  heart,  the  health  of  two  very  near  and 
dear  to  him,  Miss  Gales  and  his  brother  Ignatius,  being  so 
very  precarious  that  he  dared  not  remove  many  hours 
from  either." 

And  thus  we,  of  America,  lost  the  opportunity,  this  time 
and  forever,  of  welcoming  to  our  shores  this  gifted  poet 
and  eminent  servant  of  God. 

A  public  recognition  of  his  literary  worth  appears  this 
year,  in  Sir  Robert  Peel's  placing  his  name,  with  those  of 
Southey,  Sharon  Turner,  Professor  Airey,  and  Mrs.  Somer- 
ville,  on  the  pension  list  of  the  Literary  Fund,  to  receive 
£150  a  year,  as  a  reward  for  service  rendered  to  the  de- 
partment of  letters. 


296  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

The  Professorship  of  Rhetoric  in  the  University  of  Edin- 
burgh being  vacant,  Montgomery  was  urged  by  his  Scot- 
tish friends  to  apply  for  it,  with  their  assurance  of  his 
success.     The  honor,  however,  he  declined. 

An  article  upon  "  Sheffield  and  its  Poets,"  from  the  pen 
of  Mrs.  Hofland,  thus  mirrors  him  at  this  time : 

"  Montgomery  is  not  only  a  poet  in  full  possession  of 
fame,  and  commanding  the  most  extensive  circle  of  readers 
that  any  poet  can  boast,  but  he  is  justly  appreciated  as  a 
good  man,  of  extraordinary  capabilities,  by  his  towns- 
men and  the  country  at  large.  Nature,  as  if  seconding 
the  tardy  justice  of  man  in  redeeming  the  past,  has  ren- 
dered him  the  very  youngest  man  of  his  years  ever  beheld; 
for,  had  he  not  been  known  to  the  world  as  a  poet  thirty 
years,  we  really  think  he  might  at  this  very  time  pass  for 
thirty  —  such  is  the  slightness  of  his  figure,  the  elasticity 
of  his  step,  the  smoothness  of  his  fair  brow,  the  mobility  and 
playfulness  of  his  features  when  in  conversation.  I  was 
unfortunate  in  the  period  of  my  visit,  it  being  that  of  the 
Conference  of  the  Wesleyan  Methodists,  in  consequence  of 
which  there  was  a  great  influx  of  strangers  connected  with 
that  body ;  and  as  every  one  either  calls  on  the  great  poet, 
or  in  some  way  angles  for  his  company,  who  consider  them- 
selves more  particularly  entitled  to  the  claim  of  Christian 
brotherhood,  no  wonder  that  at  such  a  time  he  was  half 
killed  with  engagements,  and  harassed  with  homage.  To 
this  were  added  charity  bazaars,  public  meetings  on  bills  in 
Parliament,  and  petitions  from  the  church,  all  of  which  ren- 
dered him  the  busiest  of  the  busy,  transforming  the  gentle 
poet  into  the  public  man  —  so  much  the  more  must  my 
heart  thank  him  for  the  dear  and  valuable  hour  which  he 
bestowed  on  me.  .  .  .  With  the  world,  as  to  its  gauds 
and  luxuries,  he  has  nothing  to  do ;  but  with  its  sorrows, 


COMPLETE   WORKS    PUBLISHED.  097 

ignorance,  and  want,  he  is  continually  engaged  ;  and  when 
Sir  Robert  Peel,  to  his  own  immortal  honor,  marked  the 
sense  himself  and  his  countrymen  entertained  of  Mont- 
gomery's merit,  he  only  added  to  his  power  of  benefiting 
his  fellow-creatures,  for  of  personal  indulgence  in  expendi- 
ture he  has  no  idea." 

About  midsummer,  1836,  appeared  the  Poetical  Worlcs 
of  James  Montgomery,  in  three  neat  volumes.  This,  the 
first  collated  and  uniform  edition  of  all  the  poet  at  this 
time  thought  worthy  of  revision  and  reprint,  comprised 
not  only  the  matter  of  seven  previous  publications,  but 
also  above  a  score  pieces  which  had  been  scattered  through 
annuals  and  periodicals.  The  matter  was  also  arranged 
under  appropriate  heads,  and  the  price  of  the  book  was 
moderate,  so  that  it  had  a  large  sale  in  comparison  with 
that  of  the  entire  poems  in  their  separate  form. 

One  afternoon  he  found  an  album  upon  his  table,  asking 
for  his  autograph,  and  something  more :  no  unusual  cir- 
cumstance, certainly ;  but  this  little  volume  possessed  more 
than  usual  interest,  for  it  belonged  to  Dora  Wordsworth, 
and  had  been  sent  through  a  mutual  friend  to  receive  a 
contribution  from  his  pen.  Here  were  lines  from  "Words- 
worth, Southey,  Sir  Walter  Scott,  Professor  Wilson,  Cole- 
ridge, Campbell,  De  Qnincey,  and  others.  The  attempt  at 
a.  sonnet  by  Scott  was  characterized  by  tremulousness  of 
hand,  a  melancholy  tone  of  expression,  and  the  unfinished 
state  of  some  of  the  lines  —  having  been  written  near  the 
close  of  the  author's  life.  Montgomery  read  it  with  deep 
feeling,  and,  closing  the  book,  he  said  to  a  friend :  "  There 
we  have  almost  the  best  written  testimony  of  one  of  the 
most  active  and  vigorous  minds  of  the  age,  made  in  the 
very  prospect  of  death,  and  yet  there  is  not  the  slightest 
allusion  to  the  promises  of  the  Gospel,  or  the  prospects  of 


298  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

i 

the  Christian ;  but,  instead,  an  equivocal  allusion  to  endur- 
ing the  stroke  of  Fate," 

The  bachelor   poet  invoked  the  muse,  and  wrote  the 
following; : 


o 


"  TO    WILLIAM    WORDSWORTH,    ESQ. 

"  Immortal  offspring  thou  wilt  leave  behind, 
To  track  the  waves,  and  travel  on  the  wind ; 
In  lettered  forms  o'er  every  land  to  spread, 
Where  mind  expatiates  or  where  fancy's  bred ; 
Companions  of  the  fair,  the  wise,  the  good, 
Far  as  their  mother-tongue  is  understood, 
Long  as  their  father-spirit  shall  inspire, 
Heart-hid  emotion,  soul-expanding  fire, 
And,  like  the  elements  of  nature,  give 
Life  to  things  dead  —  life's  life  to  things  that  live. 
But  thou  hast  offspring  nobler  far  than  these, 
Born  to  survive  the  heavens,  the  earth,  the  seas; 
And  she  to  whom  this  precious  book  belongs, 
Shall  be  yet  more  immortal  than  thy  songs : 
These,  though  they  bear  through  every  age  and  clime 
Thy  name  and  praise  till  the  last  breath  of  Time, 
Yet  must  their  written  scroll,  when  he  expires, 
Drop  from  his  hand  into  the  final  fires. 
Oh !  then,  may  she,  like  morning  from  the  womb 
Of  darkness,  issuing  from  her  long  night-tomb, 
Behold  the  terror  with  rejoicing  eyes, 
Caught  up  to  meet  her  Saviour  in  the  skies, 
And  with  his  saints,  a  glorious  company, 
Hold  round  the  throne  eternal  jubilee ! 

"  This  for  thy  daughter,  Wordsworth,  is  my  prayer : 
Next  for  thyself — mayst  thou  that  mercy  share, 
Nor  one  that  either  loves  be  wanting  there  ! 

"J.  M. 
"The  Mount,  November  3,  1836." 


LETTER    FROM    WORDSWORTH.  299 

This  courtesy  was  promptly  and  gracefully  acknowledged 
by  the  bard  of  Ambleside  in  the  following  terms  : 

"My  Dear  Feiend, 

"  Yesterday  were  received  at  Rydal  Mount,  through 
the  kindness  of  Mr.  Younge,  your  volumes ;  and  the  little 
book  belonging  to  my  daughter,  which  you  have  been  so 
good  as  to  enrich  with  a  most  valuable  contribution.  For 
these  tokens  of  your  regard,  and  for  the  accompanying 
letter,  accept  our  joint  thanks.  I  can  assure  you  with 
truth,  that  from  the  time  I  first  read  your  Wa?iderer  of 
Switzerland,  with  the  little  pieces  annexed,  I  have  felt  a 
lively  interest  in  your  destiny  as  a  poet ;  and  though  much 
out  of  the  way  of  new  books,  I  have  become  acquainted 
with  your  works,  and  with  increasing  pleasure,  as  they  suc- 
cessively appeared.  It  might  be  presumptuous  in  me  were 
I  to  attempt  to  define  what  I  hope  belongs  to  us  in  com- 
mon ;  but  I  cannot  deny  myself  the  satisfaction  of  express- 
ing a  firm  belief  that  neither  morality  nor  religion  can 
have  suffered  from  our  writings ;  and  with  respect  to 
yours,  I  know  that  both  have  been  greatly  benefited  by 
them.  Without  convictions  of  this  kind,  all  the  rest  must 
in  the  latter  days  of  an  author's  life  appear  to  him  worse 
than  vanity.  My  publisher  has  been  directed  to  forward 
to  you  (I  suppose  it  will  be  done  through  Messrs.  Long- 
man) the  first  volume  of  my  new  edition,  and  the  others 
as  they  successively  appear.  As  the  book  could  not  be  con- 
veniently sent  to  you  through  my  hands,  I  have  ven- 
tured to  write  a  few  lines  upon  a  slip  of  paper  to  be 
attached  to  it,  which  I  trust  will  give  you  a  pleasure  akin 
to  what  I  received  from  the  lines  written  by  your  own 
hand  on  the  fly-leaf  of  your  first  volume.  With  earnest 
wishes  that  time  may  deal  gently  with  you  as  life  declines, 


300  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

and  that  hopes  may  brighten  and  faith  grow  firmer  as  you 
draw  nearer  the  end  of  your  earthly  course, 

"  I  remain,  my  dear  sir,  faithfully  yours, 

"W.    WORDSWORTH. 

"  Pray  excuse  my  employment  of  an  amanuensis ;  my 
eyes  require  that  help  which  Mrs.  Wordsworth  is  ever 
ready  to  give. 

"  James  Montgomery,  Esq.,  The  Mount,  Sheffield." 

Hartshead,  so  commodious  and  attractive  to  the  youth- 
ful adventurer  forty-three  years  before,  has  grown  old  and 
dingy.  Comfort,  elegance,  and  fashion  have  left  it  to  the 
encroachments  of  smoke  and  time,  and  gone  to  cleaner  por- 
tions of  the  city.  Thither  Montgomery,  with  his  adopted 
sisters,  removes,  and  makes  a  new  home  at  The  Mount,  a 
block  of  newly  erected  houses,  beautifully  situated  on  a 
swell  of  land  skirting  the  south  side  of  the  city. 

There  we  now  find  him,  at  sixty-five,  in  the  zenith  of  his 
reputation,  surrounded  by  comfort  and  friends,  with  health 
and  motive  for  sufficient  exertion  to  keep  his  heart  young 
and  his  head  clear,  a  ripe  old  English  gentleman. 

Many  who  began  life  with  him  have  fallen  by  the  way. 

Coleridge's  glorious  sun  had  set  in  clouds. 

Scott,  after  drinking  deeper  draughts  from  the  goblet  of 
fame  than  man  ever  drank  before,  like  the  master  of  a 
sumptuous  feast,  awoke  to  the  desolate  forlornness  of  the 
next  morning,  —  to  find  himself  a  bankrupt,  —  and  a  bank- 
rupt he  died,  in  everything  but  his  cheery  temper  and  un- 
dying fame. 

Southey  is  nearing  those  sorrows  which  finally  crushed 
him. 

Montgomery,  with  a  constitution  naturally  delicate,  is 


LABORING    IN    HOPE.  301 

indeed  capable  of  doing  a  greater  amount  of  work  than 
ever.  Manifold  are  his  labors ;  not  are  the  quiet,  graver 
pursuits  more  suited  to  the  sober  and  conservative  period 
of  age  ;  rather  the  alert  activities  of  a  man  profoundly  in- 
terested in  all  the  onward  movements  of  the  time. 

Many  a  bright  vision  of  reform  has  perished  ;  confidence 
in  men  and  measures  has  received  many  a  blow ;  the  world 
more  slowly  apprehends  the  right,  and  more  tardily  still  is 
disposed  to  follow  it,  than  he  ever  supposed ;  the  heats  of 
passion  and  the  jealousy  of  party  blacken  what  is  good, 
brighten  what  is  bad :  good  men  are  often  allied  to  bad 
measures,  and  good  measures  are  often  successful  through 
bad  men.  Yet  for  all  this,  Montgomery  does  not  wilfully 
or  impatiently  cast  himself  on  a  lower  platform  of  princi- 
ples or  policy :  nor  is  he  willing  to  abandon  what  cannot 
be  easily  accomplished ;  he  believes  in  men,  and  labors  for 
their  improvement.  He  believes  in  God,  and  trusts  the 
righteousness  of  his  providence.  The  brooding,  distrust- 
ful, self-accusing  spirit  of  earlier  days  has  given  place  to  a 
calm,  hopeful,  joyous  trust  in  God : 

"  With  only  such  degree  of  sadness  left 
As  may  support  longings  of  pure  desire  ; 
And  strengthen  love,  rejoicing  secretly 
In  the  sublime  attractions  of  the  grave." 

And  so,  like  one 

"  Accustomed  to  desires  that  feed 

On  fruitage  gathered  from  the  Tree  of  Life ; 
To  hopes  on  knowledge  and  experience  built ; — 
In  whom  persuasion  and  belief 
Had  ripened  into  faith," 

a  middle  life  of  usefulness  and  enjoyment  is  passing  to  a 

tranquil  and  devout  old  age. 
26 


302  LIFE   OF   MONTGOMERY. 

Amid  the  hurry  and  confusion  of  moving,  he  was  under 
the  necessity  of  preparing  a  course  of  Lectures  upon  the 
British  Poets,  promised  to  Manchester  and  Leeds,  concern- 
ing whose  reception  he  writes  to  a  friend : 

"At  Manchester  and  in  Leeds,  by  the  testimonies  of  the 
councils  of  the  Institutions  in  both  places,  my  lectures  have 
been  so  well  received  as  to  have  commanded  unusually 
large  audiences;  indeed,  in  the  latter  town,  they  could 
hardly  have  been  larger  on  the  last  three  evenings.  I  may 
say,  myself,  that  the  audiences  have  been  of  the  highest 
respectability,  and  I  have  been  heard  by  all  with  a  measure 
of  favor  and  indulgence  which  it  becomes  me  to  attribute 
rather  to  their  liberality  than  to  the  merit  of  my  papers. 
It  is,  however,  a  circumstance  not  a  little  gratifying  under 
the  present  discouragement  of  elegant  literature,  and  the 
absolute  depression  of  poetry,  to  find  that  persons  actively 
engaged  in  the  pursuits  of  prosperous  commerce,  are  (so 
many  of  them  at  least)  willing  to  spare  an  hour,  now  and 
then,  from  profit  and  loss,  for  the  pleasure  and  improve- 
ment which  may  be  derived  (under  better  teaching  than 
mine)  from  lessons  on  '  the  divinest  of  human  arts,'  as  I 
have  presumed  to  call  that  which  I  profess  to  expound,  — 
and  in  my  humble  way  to  practise,  so  ps,  if  possible,  in- 
nocently to  entertain  my  hearers.  Forgive  this  egotism, 
which  if  anywhere  in  place  is  surely  so  in  a  letter." 

As  a  public  speaker,  we  find  his  engagements  are  numer- 
ous. He  lectures  frequently  before  the  Literary  Institu- 
tions of  some  of  the  principal  cities  in  the  kingdom,  with  very 
considerable  pecuniary  profit ;  and  is  a  favorite  pleader  in 
behalf  of  Benevolent  Institutions  of  the  Church,  for  whose 
growth  and  success  he  had  felt  almost  a  father's  care. 

The  following  letter,  dated  January  27,  1837,  was  ad- 
dressed to  George  Bennett : 


LETTER  TO  GEORGE  RENNETT.      303 

"  My  Dear  Friend, 

"  These  lines  must  be  few,  but  they  bear  the  heaviest 
burden  with  which  I  have  ever  had  to  charge  a  letter  to 
you.  Before  I  name  the  occasion,  you  will  already  have 
anticipated  it.  This  day  at  noon  our  endeared  and  ines- 
timable friend  Rowland  Hodgson  entered  into  the  joy  of 
his  Lord.  After  such  a  life  of  suffering,  what  must  the 
first  moment  be  to  the  redeemed  spirit  emancipated  from 
that  house  of  bondage,  the  perishing  body,  and  brought 
indeed  into  the  glorious  liberty  of  the  children  of  God,  in 
the  very  kingdom  of  his  Father  and  the  personal  presence 
of  that  Saviour  whom  while  unseen  he  loved,  and  in  whom, 
now  that  he  does  see  Ilim  eye  to  eye,  he  rejoices  and  shall 
for  ever  rejoice  with  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory ! 
To  us  who  are  still  strangers  and  pilgrims  on  earth,  yet,  I 
humbly  hope,  inquiring  our  way  to  Zion,  with  our  faces 
thitherward  and  our  hearts  already  there,  where  our  treas- 
ure is  —  or  we  are  utterly,  hoj^elessly,  and  everlastingly 
poor  —  the  world,  as  I  sung  ten  years  ago,  in  a  poem  com- 
menced in  mind  in  our  late  friend's  carriage  while  we  were 
travelling  together,  the  world  to  me  '  grows  darker,  lone- 
lier, and  more  silent,  as  I  descend  into  the  vale  of  years.' 
One  light  which  has  long  cheered,  and  I  may  say  accom- 
panied, me  through  one  third  of  my  way  of  life,  is  now 
gone  out  —  no,  no,  not  out,  it  has  passed  on  before  through 
the  shadow  of  death  into  the  splendor  of  eternity :  but  I 
shall  miss  it ;  and  O  !  how  many  more  whom  its  mild 
beams  were  wont  to  bless  will  miss  it  too  !  But  the  Lord 
liveth  —  He  gave  and  He  has  taken  away  —  blessed  be  his 
name !  To  none  but  Him  would  we  have  surrendered  it, 
and  submitted  to  the  bereavement.  But  He  who  doeth  all 
tilings  well,  cannot  have  done  otherwise  in  respect  to  us  on 
this  occasion ;  while  the  departed,  whom  we  must  lament 


304  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

on  our  own  account  as  frail  human  creatures,  how  has  he 
already  learnt  that  all  things  while  he  was  in  the  body  did, 
moment  by  moment,  without  intermission,  work  together 
for  his  good  !  and  why  ?  —  ah  !  there  is  the  point  that  con- 
cerns us  as  survivors,  if  we  would  secure  the  same  blessed- 
ness for  ourselves  —  because  he  loved  God.  So  may  we,  and 
so  may  the  Lord  help  us  to  do  !  I  am  too  much  bewildered 
with  the  effect  of  this  stroke,  which,  though  I  have  been 
expecting  it  from  day  to  day  for  three  weeks  past,  yet 
stunned  my  faculties  as  though  it  were  sudden.  Death 
always  is  sudden  when  it  comes  at  last ;  for,  how  long  or 
how  much  soever  foreseen  and  apprehended,  the  reality  of 
it  is  as  different  from  the  anticipation  as  life  and  death  are 
themselves  distinct.  Forgive,  therefore,  the  little  coher- 
ence of  the  foregoing  remarks,  which  are  but  the  imperfect 
expression  of  feelings  and  sentiments,  themselves  but  mo- 
mentary fragments  crowding  and  flitting  away,  while  the 
mind  is  scarcely  more  than  passively  conscious,  and  the 
heart  hardly  yet  sensible  of  the  actual  distress  that  for  a 
long  time  —  if  time  be  yet  allowed  to  me  much  longer 
—  must  afflict  it  when  the  loss  which  I  have  sustained 
comes  to  be  experienced:  at  present  it  is  but  known  as  a 
fact  —  as  that  which  has  occurred  and  never  can  be  re- 
versed. I  must  give  over.  I  did  not  intend  to  touch  this 
page,  but  as  I  am  forced  upon  it,  I  will  just  add  that  our 
friends  at  Park  Grange  within  these  two  days  have  been 
visited  with  the  prevailing  influenza.  Thousands  of  fam- 
ilies here  are  inflicted  by  it,  so  far  as  I  can  learn  ;  but,  on 
the  whole,  the  symptoms  appear  to  be  milder  than  they 
have  manifested  themselves  in  your  great  city.  None  of 
our  connexions,  I  believe,  have  been  severely  handled  by 
it.     We  have  escaped  in  this  house  hitherto. 

"  I  am  truly,  your  affectionate  friend, 

"  J.  Montgomery." 


THE    "CHRISTIAN    CORRESPONDENT."         305 

Mr.  Bennett  has  written  upon  this  letter,  "  R.  Hodgson  is 
gone  to  hisJLord.  Oh  !  for  grace  to  follow  him,  as  he  fol- 
lowed our  common  Lord." 

At  the  beginning  of  February  appeared  the  "  Christian 
Correspondent:  Letters,  Private  and  Confidential,  addressed 
to  Relatives  and  others,  by  pious  Persons  of  both  Sexes, 
eminent  for  their  Talents,  or  peculiar  Circumstances  in 
Life,  exemplifying  the  Fruits  of  Holy  Living,  and  the  Bless- 
edness of  Holy  Dying."  These  letters,  forming  three 
volumes,  were  introduced  by  a  "  Preliminary  Essay  "  from 
the  pen  of  Montgomery  —  at  whose  suggestion,  indeed, 
the  work  itself  was  undertaken  by  the  publishers,  "to  one  of 
whom  he  had  casually  remarked,"  Mr.  Holland  goes  on  to 
tell  us,  "that  he  had  often  met  with  letters  by  people,  great 
and  good  in  their  day,  which,  though  never  intended  for 
any  eyes  but  those  of  their  respective  correspondents,  were, 
nevertheless,  often  the  more  interesting  and  precious  on 
that  very  account ;  and  especially  were  they  worthy  of 
preservation,  as  introducing  us  into  the  privacy  of  distin- 
guished individuals,  who,  on  general  occasions,  acted, 
spoke,  wrote,  and  even  thought  as  in  the  sight  and  audi- 
ence of  their  contemporaries,  and  of  posterity;  conse- 
quently, in  some  measure,  at  least,  under  restraint.  In  the 
freedom  of  epistolary  intercourse,  they  poured  into  the  faith- 
ful ear  of  friends  and  kindred  their  joys  and  their  sorrows ; 
and  showed  themselves,  as  they  appeared  in  their  families 
and  amidst  society  at  large,  men  of  like  passions  with  our- 
selves, engaged  in  the  business,  the  cares,  and  the  charities 
of  ordinary  life ;  at  the  same  time,  by  glimpses  and  allu- 
sions, unconsciously  revealing  the  inmost  secrets  of  their 
hearts  ;  and  this,  whether  the  topics  are  religious  or  other- 
wise —  so  that  at  the  distance  of  centuries  they  may  be 

known,  not  only  as  they  desired  to  be  seen,  or  even  as  they 

20* 


306  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

were  seen  by  their  every-day  and  incurious  acquaintance, 
but  as  they  actually  were  in  themselves  and  to  themselves. 
It  was  moreover  truly  intimated  at  the  same  time,  that  the 
familiar  letters  of  illustrious  individuals  of  bygone  times, 
who  may  be  known  otherwise  only  by  the  imperfect  re- 
cords of  history  —  the  overcharged  portraits  drawn  of 
them  by  biographers,  or  (if  authors)  perhaps  by  their  own 
elaborate  literary  performances,  have  an  interest  exceed- 
ingly attractive,  and  afford  intelligence  concerning  the 
writers,  which  is  not  only  gratifying  to  innocent  curiosity, 
but  delightfully  and  practically  instructive  to  those  who 
love  to  study  human  nature  in  its  elements  and  eccentrici- 
ties—  to  trace  its  general  correspondence  and  its  individual 
diversities.  It  is  thus  that  one  mind  is  compared  with  an- 
other mind  as  contemplated  under  similar  aspects ;  while 
each  is  brought  to  the  test  of  our  own  reason,  so  far  as  self- 
knowledge,  experience,  and  observation  enable  us  to  judge 
with  candor  and  impartiality." 

We  believe  that  Montgomery's  colleague  in  this  under- 
taking, so  far  as  the  selection  of  the  larger  portion  of  the 
matter,  and  the  arrangement  of  the  whole  is  concerned, 
was  Mr.  Henry  Rogers,  whose  contributions  to  the  "Edin- 
burgh Review  "  have  been  separately  printed,  and  who  has 
gained  deserved  popularity  from  his  "  Eclipse  of  Faith." 
The  letters  are  selected  with  discrimination  and  taste ;  and 
were,  on  the  whole,  satisfactory  to  the  originator  of  the 
work.  He  was,  at  first,  inclined  to  doubt  the  advantage 
of  distributing  them  under  certain  general  heads  with  re- 
ference to  subject,  instead  of  arranging  them  simply  accord- 
ing to  their  dates  ;  but  on  reconsidering  the  matter,  he  ap- 
peared to  coincide  with  the  views  of  the  editor  in  favor  of 
a  classification.  The  "  Preliminary  Essay "  displays  in  a 
considerable  degree  that  delicate  perception  of  the  latent 


THE    "PRELIMINARY    ESSAY."  307 

beauties  of  the  materials  before  him,  and  that  peculiar 
felicity  in  pointing  them  out,  which  had  characterised  his 
efforts  in  previous  compositions  of  a  like  nature. 

The  leading  idea,  which  appears  to  have  been  present  to 
the  mind  of  the  editor,  was,  that  — 

"In  confidential  epistolary  correspondence,  people  are 
more  really  themselves  than  in  any  other  way  of  exercising 
their  faculties  in  reference  to  their  fellow-creatures;  and 
these  memorials,"  he  adds,  "  have  the  advantage,  not  only 
of  beingr 


o 


'  Warm  from  the  heart,  and  faithful  to  its  fires,' 

but  they  are  positive  acts,  not  mere  records ;  and  the  re- 
vealing of  the  writers  in  their  real  characters,  though,  per- 
haps, as  imperceptible,  is  yet  as  gradual  and  manifest,  at 
comparative  intervals,  as  any  of  the  operations  of  nature 
throughout  the  animal  or  vegetable  kingdoms,  in  the 
growth  of  what  is  palpable,  and  the  development  of  what 
is  concealed."  .  .  .  .  "  Whatever  a  man  says  of  himself 
is  genuine ;  whether  it  be  true  or  false,  it  is  equally  his 
own.  Even  in  hypocrisy  he  is  no  hypocrite,  for  deceit  is 
natural ;  if  he  assumes  a  virtue  which  he  has  not,  he  ex- 
poses a  vice  which  he  has  ;  if  he  pretends  to  talents  which 
he  does  not  possess,  he  disproves  his  claim  by  the  inability 
with  which  he  asserts  it.  One  part  of  his  character  he 
may  conceal,  but  the  very  act  of  concealment  betrays 
another ;  if  he  cover  his  breast  with  both  his  hands,  he 
may  be  showing  us  that  they  are  not  clean ;  if  he  turns 
away  his  head  to  hide  his  face,  perhaps  he  is  discovering 
to  us  his  baldness  behind.  Let  him  represent  himself  as  he 
will,  we  shall  see  him  more  clearly  as  he  is  than  any  other 
man  could  have  represented  him." 

It  is  the  opinion  of  Thomas  De  Quincey  (the  "  English 


308  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

Opium  Eater ")  that  "  amongst  all  the  celebrated  letter- 
writers  of  past  or  present  times,  a  large  overbalance  hap- 
pens to  have  been  men ;"  at  the  same  time  he  admits  that, 
"more  frequently  women  write  from  their  hearts  —  and 
this  very  cause  operates  to  make  female  letters  good." 

Montgomery  appears  to  have  entertained  a  similar  opin- 
ion, for  towards  the  close  of  a  section  in  rej^ly  to  the  ques- 
tion, "  why  are  the  letters  of  women,  for  the  most  part, 
more  frank  and  agreeable  than  those  of  men  ?  "  he  says, 
"where  they  give  their  confidence  at  all,  they  give  it 
heartily." 

In  May,  1837,  we  follow  him  to  London,  and  again  find 
him  at  the  Royal  Institution  lecturing  upon  the  Principal 
British  Poets. 

The  six  lectures  comprise  the  following  subjects : — Lec- 
ture 1.  Introduction. — A  View  of  the  Present  State  of 
Poetry  and  General  Literature  in  this  Country.  Lecture  2. 
Strictures  on  the  earlier  British  Poets  from  the  Reism  of 
Edward  III.,  including  Langlande,  Chaucer,  Gower,  &c. 
Lecture  3.  British  Poets  of  the  Fifteenth,  Sixteenth,  and 
Seventeenth  Centuries,  including  Skelton,  Surrey,  Spenser, 
Shakespeare,  Donne,  &c.  Lecture  4.  British  Poets  of  the 
Seventeenth  Century  continued,  including  Cowley,  Butler, 
Milton,  Dryden,  Prior,  Addison,  &c.  Lecture  5.  British 
Poets  of  the  Eighteenth  Century,  including  Parnell,  Pope, 
Thomson,  Young,  Churchill,  Akenside,  &c.  Lecture  6. 
British  Poetesses. — British  Poets  of  the  Eighteenth  and 
Nineteenth  Centuries,  including  Burns,  Cowper,  Crabbe, 
Sir  Walter  Scott,  Lord  Byron,  and  Coleridge,  with  brief 
references  to  some  living  Poets, — Wordsworth,  Southey, 
Rogers,  Campbell,  Moore,  &c. 

"  The  proprietor  of  the  '  Metropolitan  Magazine,'  "  says 
his  English  biographer,  "was  anxious  to  have  purchased 


LECTURES    ON   BRITISH    POETS.  309 

the  MS.  of  the  lectures  for  publication  in  that  periodical, 
distributing  the  matter  over  the  ensuing  twelvemonths' 
numbers.  The  remuneration  proposed  was  so  liberal  that 
the  author  would  at  once  have  closed  with  the  offer,  had 
he  not  experienced  some  misgivings,  in  the  first  place,  as 
to  whether  they  were  really  worth  the  sum  offered ;  and, 
in  the  next  place,  whether  he  ought,  considering  what  was 
due  to  his  own  reputation,  to  give  them  to  the  public,  even 
through  such  a  medium,  without  first  subjecting  them  to  a 
more  leisurely  and  rigid  revision  than  the  occasion  afforded 
him  a  chance  of  bestowing.  A  part  of  the  first  lecture  he 
did,  indeed,  consent  thus  to  dispose  of.  We  believe  he  re- 
ceived fifty  guineas  for  the  delivery  of  the  lectures  before 
the  Royal  Institution.  His  spare  time  during  this  visit  to 
the  metropolis  was,  for  the  most  part,  divided  between 
the  claims  of  his  relatives,  at  Woolwich,  and  those  of  his 
old  friend  George  Bennett,  Esq.,  at  Hackney.  It  was 
chiefly  in  consequence  of  the  latter  association  that  he 
was  induced  to  take  a  part  as  a  speaker  at  the  annual 
meeting  of  the  London  Missionary  Society,  the  only  bene- 
volent institution  (with  a  single  exception,  perhaps)  whose 
anniversary  his  over-cautious  timidity  did  not  prevent  him 
from  attending." 

"The  last  five  days,"  he  writes  to  Mr.  Holland,  "have 
advanced  the  season  more  than  the  sun  had  done  in  all 
his  journey  through  the  first  sign  of  the  year ;  renewing 
its  youth  as  it  was  wont  to  do  in  former  ages,  but  as  of 
late  it  has  rarely  done  till  much  later.  With  me,  the  only 
intimation  of  youth  to  be  renewed  is  the  decay  of  nature. 
I  have,  indeed,  no  cause  to  complain,  except  a  disposition 
to  complain,  —  the  worst  of  all  possible  causes,  where  mur- 
muring is  ingratitude,  and  less  than  the  most  fervent  gra- 
titude is  impiety.     My  daily  prayer  is  to  have  —  next  to 


310  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

1  a  broken  heart  and  a  contrite  spirit '  — a  thoughtful  heart, 
and  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit,  resigned  wholly  to  his  will, 
who  alone  knows  what  is  good  for  me,  and  who  alone  can 
do  any  good  to  me. 

"  I  have  been  called  upon  to  attend  two  private  meetings 
for  our  Moravian  missions,  and  a  public  one  for  another 
beautiful  charity  —  for  the  relief  of  widows  in  the  first 
month  of  their  affliction  and  bereavement  —  during  the 
past  week.  Several  others  have  been  in  my  way,  but  I 
have  made  it  in  my  way  to  pass  by  on  the  other  side.  In- 
deed, I  must  avoid  as  many  occasions  of  this  kind  as  pos- 
sible—  both  flesh  and  spirit  fail  me,  and  I  never  dare 
engage  in  such  services  now,  except  when  I  dare  not 
desert,  though  a  pressed  man.  To-day  is  the  great  Wes- 
leyan  Annual  [Missionary]  Meeting  at  Exeter  Hall ;  and 
I  have  willfully  kept  out  of  sight  of  my  friends  in  that 
Connexion,  that  they  might  not,  out  of  courtesy,  ask  me 
to  take  part  at  the  meetings  to  come. 

"  Ever  since  you  left  us  I  have  been  involved,  beyond 
the  average  number,  with  meetings,  anniversaries,  and  com- 
mittees connected  with  such  and  other  public  engagements, 
so  that  I  have  had  little  time  and  less  spirit  to  do  or  get 
any  good,  by  choice,  in  any  other  way ;  and  if  I  have 
failed  either  to  get  or  do  on  these  occasions,  my  days  and 
weeks  have  been  wofully  misspent.  Perhaps,  however,  it 
is  well  for  me  to  be  thus  exercised ;  it  would  be,  I  know, 
if  I  rightly  improved  these  —  what  shall  I  call  them  ?  — 
providential  accidents  of  my  situation  in  life,  —  a  long- 
standing among  my  townspeople  here,  and  a  certain  char- 
acter which  has  grown  upon  me  rather  than  grown  out 
of  me,  because  I  am  one  of  '  those  who  appear  righteous 
before  men  ; '  but  c  God  knoweth  my  heart.''  O,  how  hum- 
bling ought  these  awful  words  of  our  Saviour  to  be  to  me ! 


DEATH  OF  ANNA  GALES.         311 

and  how  ought  I  to  fear  and  tremble,  yea,  even  when  I 
rejoice,  to  tremble,  and  lie  in  the  dust  at  his  feet,  lest, 
alter  all,  his  last  word  to  me  should  be  '  depart ! '  .  .  .  I 
thank  you  for  your  over-sea  stanzas  on  American  freedom 
and  American  slaveholding.  Mr.  George  Thompson  is 
here  now,  incensing  us  on  the  latter  subject,  as  well  as 
upon  the  atrocious  violations  of  faith  on  the  part  of  our 
own  colonists,  in  too  many  instances,  respecting  that  new 
and  anomalous  form  of  slavery — slavery  hideous  in  all 
its  shapes,  and  most  hideous  in  disguise  —  under  the  legal 
fiction  of  apprenticeship." 

Summer  and  autumn  glide  on  with  noiseless  flow,  with 
little  for  our  pen  to  record,  in  its  fragmentary  snatches  of 
human  life ;  yet  no  blanks  are  they  in  the  Book  of  Re- 
membrance. 

Winter  brings  more  than  weather  chills  to  the  Mount : 
Death  follows  hard  on  the  new  year ;  Anna  Gales  sickens 
and  dies. 

"January  18,  183S. 

"  We  are  one  less  at  the  Mount,"  writes  Montgomery  to 
Mr.  Holland.  "  We  are,  however,  not  as  those  who  sor- 
sow  without  hope.  I  must  not  trust  my  heart  to  my  hand, 
or  I  know  not  whither  it  might  be  carried  at  this  time. 
Sarah  [Gales]  is  pretty  well;  but  —  as  it  could  not,  it 
ought  not  to  be  otherwise  —  deeply  distressed.  Dear 
Anna  [Gales]  departed  yesterday  morning  soon  after  four 
o'clock.  With  her  yet  in  body  amongst  us  we  seem  to  be 
living  between  the  two  worlds,  in  each  of  which  she  has 
now  a  portion.  Ours  is  yet  in  this  ;  but  all  that  we  have 
to  do,  including  the  fulfillment  of  every  duty  to  God  and 
our  neighbor,  under  every  change  of  circumstances,  is  to 
preparo   for  our  departure  —  that,  when  called  at  any  mo- 


312  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

ment,  we  may  arise  and  go  hence,  for  this  is  not  our  rest ; 
but  there  remaineth  a  rest  for  the  people  of  God.  Among 
these  may  we  —  you  —  all,  all  we  love,  be  found  here,  and 
then,  there  and  forever,  we  shall  be  with  the  Lord." 

To  George  Bennett  he  writes  again,  January  23,  1838 : 
"  Yesterday  I  followed  to  her  last  home  all  that  was  left 
of  my  beloved  companion,  my  sister  in  soul,  though  alien  by 
blood,  when  her  spirit  returned  to  God  who  gave  it,  and 
broke  the  threefold  cord  that  had  bound  herself,  her  sister, 
and  me  in  domestic  affection  for  more  than  five  and  forty 
years.  We  laid  her  to  rest  in  the  church-yard  of  Ecking- 
ton,  her  native  village,  where  her  kindred  of  three  genera- 
tions have  been  progressively  gathered  to  their  unrecorded 
fathers,  who  lived  before  them  in  the  same  neighborhood. 
.  .  .  She  rests  in  peace,  I  humbly  trust,  in  the  presence 
of  her  Redeemer.  For  years  past  her  simple  ingenuous 
piety  and  sincere  devotion,  according  to  the  knowledge  of 
divine  things  which  she  had  received,  and  which  she 
embraced,  I  verily  believe,  according  to  the  convictions 
wrought  by  the  Spirit  of  God  upon  her  heart  and  mind  — 
these  have  been  to  me  a  source  of  hope  for  her  through 
life,  and  are  still  the  ground  of  faith  in  the  power  of  the 
Gospel  as  the  power  of  God  to  her,  that  she  is  now  one 
of  the  redeemed  before  the  throne.  This  one  subject, 
which  has  in  other  respects  been  predominant  in  my 
thoughts  while  the  process  of  mortality  was  going  forward 
and  under  my  very  eyes  for  the  last  month,  has  occupied 
all  my  paper  ;  and  less  I  found  not  means  to  say,  though  I 
seem  to  have  said  so  little,  that  you  will  very  imperfectly 
comprehend  through  what  a  course  of  sorrows  and  conso- 
lations, wonderfully  and  blessedly  mingled  in  the  same 
cup,  her  dear  sister  and  I  have  been  lately  led.    All,  all  I 


LOCKHART'S   LIFE   OF    SCOTT.  313 

must  conclude  is  well,  because  I  cannot  find  a  Scripture 
that  will  —  understood  in  its  plainest  meaning  —  allow  me 
to  doubt  that  she  is  as  far  beyond  suffering  and  death  as 
pure  spirit  can  be  in  heaven.  Sarah  joins  me  in  kindest 
regards,  and  good  wishes  for  your  health  and  happiness 
through  many  new  years  to  come  — if  it  be  the  Lord's  will ; 
and  if  not,  for  something  better  still  —  soul-health  and 
happiness  to  all  eternity." 

"  You  mention  Lockhart's  '  Life  of  Walter  Scott,' "  says 
Montgomery :  "  few  books,  indeed,  have  I  ever  read  which 
gave  me  so  much  of  that  gratification  which,  as  an  adven- 
turer in  literature  myself,  I  eagerly  seek  in  the  biography 
of  any  of  the  master-minds  of  their  age,  and  especially  of 
our  own  country.  But  I  cannot  express  —  and  if  I  could  I 
would  not  —  the  strange  misgivings  that  haunted  me 
through  every  stage  of  his  marvellous  fortune  —  marvel- 
lous in  its  prosperity,  and  more  marvellous  in  its  reverse  ; 
the  chances  of  both  extremes  meeting  in  one  person  being 
millions  of  millions  of  times  more  beyond  probability  than 
was  the  unexampled  success  which  he  attained  —  though 
that  was  itself  beyond  all  calculation  ;  no  other  in  any  age 
or  country  having  reaped  such  golden  harvests  from  the 
mere  market  value  of  the  commodities  which  he  brought 
out  for  sale,  as  this  mighty  man  of  the  North ;  —  I  say  I 
was  haunted  with  a  dreary  misgiving  concerning  the  result 
of  his  labors  to  himself,  feeling  that  all  could  not  be  right 
within,  while  there  is  much  of  what  is  wrong  in  the  most 
popular  of  his  productions.  I  am  not  his  judge,  therefore 
I  condemn  him  not,  but  lament  that  his  ten  talents  were 
not  wholly  so  employed  that  his  master  could  in  reference 
to  all  of  them,  say,  'Well  done,  good  and  faithful  servant ! » 
What  a   different  world  would  it  be  if  we  all,  from  ten 

talents  down  to  the  tenth  of  one  talent,  could  say,  in  the 
27 


314  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

day  of  our  account,  *  Lord,  that  which  thou  gayest  I  have 
occupied ;  and  there  is  thine  own  with  usury  ! '  Would 
not  such  a  consummation  —  such  a  consecration  of  God's 
gifts  to  God's  glory  —  go  far  towards  the  fulfillment  of 
millennial  prophecies  and  Paradise  Restored  ?" 

March  8.  He  was  reading  the  sixth  volume  of  the  "Life 
of  Scott.  "  It  really,"  said  he,  "  makes  one  almost  un- 
willing to  die,  when  one  sees  how  the  very  secret  thoughts 
of  an  individual,  if  he  happened  to  leave  any  private  re- 
cord of  them,  are  exposed  to  public  gaze  and  scrutiny 
after  the  writer's  death,  I  believe  I  never  wrote  a  line 
of  a  diary  in  my  life.  Scott,  to  and  through  his  heart's 
core,  was,  with  all  his  genius,  a  thoroughly  worldly-minded 
man :  he  does,  indeed,  sometimes  mention  the  Bible  with 
respect  in  a  general  way ;  but  there  can  be  no  doubt  that 
he  hated  what  we  are  accustomed  to  call  —  and  very  pro- 
perly call  —  evangelical  religion.  He  has  some  flippant, 
not  to  say  irreverent  remarks,  on  the  opinion  that  good 
people  make  the  bliss  of  heaven  to  consist  chiefly  in  sing- 
ing ;  an  employment  which,  it  seems,  would  not  be  wel- 
come to  him.  The  fact  is,  holy  men,  even  the  simplest  of 
them,  are  very  rarely  guilty  of  excess  in  the  notion  thus 
attributed  to  them  :  indeed,  why  should  they  be  ?  since 
nearly  all  that  the  Scriptures  authorise  us  to  conclude  of 
the  state  and  place  of  the  happy  departed,  comes  within 
the  meaning  of  four  words  —  light,  music,  society,  and, 
especially,  rest ;  and  these,  in  some  of  their  modifications, 
will  be  found  to  constitute  nearly  the  entire  subject  of  the 
'  Paradise  '  of  Dante." 

To  George  Bennett,  under  date  of  March  17,  1838  : 
"...     I  have  once  more  to  acknowledge  the  fresh 
obligation  which  you  offer  to  lay  upon  me,  and  to  none  liv- 
ing am  I  more  willing  to  be  under  an  obligation  than  to 


LETTER   TO   MR.    BENNETT.  315 

yourself;  but  without  assigning  one  of  the  ninety-nine 
reasons  which  cut  off  the  probability,  not  to  say  possibility, 
of  visiting  Hackney  this  year  (and  in  the  whole  calendar  of 
time  there  is  no  year  but  this,  since  the  past  have  been,  and 
the  future  are  not),  I  can  only  accept  the  invitation  in  my 
heart,  and  hope  to  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  it  in  the  spirit, 
should  I  be  spared  to  see  the  swallows  and  hear  the  cuckoo 
again.  I  am  under  an  engagement  to  visit  Bristol  for  a 
few  days  in  May  on  a  missionary  anniversary,  and  again  in 
October,  for  a  fortnight,  to  deliver  my  lectures  there  on 
the  '  British  Poets.'  My  spirits  have  been  and  continue 
too  much  depressed  by  personal  troubles,  as  well  as  by  late 
domestic  afflictions,  to  allow  me  to  look  beyond  the  mor- 
row (with  the  exceptions  afore-mentioned)  ;  and  daily 
mercies  alone  enable  me  to  go  softly  on  my  way  of  life,  as 
one  with  whom  the  end  of  all  things  is  at  hand,  and  who 
has  needed  to  be  sober  and  watchful  unto  prayer,  lest, 
after  all  the  long-suffering  and  loving-kindness  of  God  my 
Saviour  towards  me,  I  be  at  last  a  castaway.  At  Hull 
several  friends  (especially  Mr.  James  Bowden  and  his 
family  connections)  inquired  very  kindly  after  you.  I  am 
obliged  by  your  extract  from  Lesche's  '  Polar  Discoveries,' 
because  it  shows  how  kindly  attentive  you  are  to  my  credit 
as  an  author.  I  have  not  seen  the  publication,  but  I  am 
sufficiently  acquainted  both  with  the  northern  histories  and 
traditions  respecting  East  Greenland  to  know  that  it  is  dif- 
ficult to  distinguish  fact  from  fable  in  them,  and  to  make 
both  bend  to  my  purpose  as  a  rhymer.  Cottle's  '  Recollec- 
tions of  Coleridge '  I  read  with  peculiar  interest,  having 
had  personal  acquaintance  with  the  biographer,  and  no 
ordinary  feeling  of  curiosity  to  learn  more  of  the  actual 
character  of  the  most  mysterious  of  the  master  spirits  of 
our  age,  as  influencing  its  literature.    Lockhart's  '  Memoirs 


316  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

of  Walter  Scott '  at  present  absorb  my  whole  soul  in  read- 
ing them  volume  by  volume.  His  history  is  more  intensely 
attractive  to  my  mind,  and  in  itself  even  more  marvellous, 
than  any  of  his  fictions  either  in  verse  or  prose." 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

VICTORIA   ON   THE  BRITISH  THRONE — REJOICINGS  AT   SHEFFIELD — APPEAL 

FOR   THE    POOR — LETTER   TO   A  "  FAR  WEST"  COLLEGE — AT    BRISTOL 

LECTURING   TOUR — CENTENARY    OF   METHODISM — REV.    WILLIAM    JAY'S 
JUBILEE — DEATH  OF  IGNATIUS  MONTGOMERY. 

A  youthful  sovereign  ascended  the  British  throne  in 
1838,  a  maiden  queen,  before  whom  all  hearts  in  the  realm 
bowed  in  loyal  homage.  Never  were  coronation  festivities 
celebrated  with  more  hearty  and  universal  cordiality.  Pro- 
cessions, illuminations,  dinners,  suppers,  balls,  soirees,  ani- 
mated old  England,  with  less  of  the  bacchanalian  jollity  of 
the  olden  time,  and  more  of  the  rational,  genuine  enjoy- 
ment, becoming  a  higher  tone  of  national  intelligence  and 
morality. 

Sheffield  was  not  behind  its  sister  cities  in  the  expres- 
sions of  the  day.  Beside  the  salutes  and  decorations  which 
heralded  and  adorned  the  occasion,  a  public  soiree  was  held 
at  Cutler's  Hall,  at  which  Montgomery  was  invited  to  con- 
tribute by  his  presence  and  his  pen.  On  the  afternoon  of 
the  28th  of  June,  four  hundred  gentlemen  and  ladies  of 
every  shade  of  religious  opinion  sat  down  to  table,  at 
which  the  venerable  poet  presided,  with  Miss  Sarah  Gales 
on  one  side,  and  a  beautiful  niece  on  the  other. 

Tea  being  over,  he  arose  and  addressed  the  meeting  in  a 

tone  of  remark  befitting  a  gallant,  Christian  gentleman : 

27* 


318  LIFE   OF   MONTGOMERY. 

"Her  Majesty,"  he  said,  in  closing,  "the  first  of  a  line  of 
sovereigns  since  a  maiden  Queen  filled  the  throne,  has  suc- 
ceeded to  an  empire  on  the  face  of  which,  between  the  ris- 
ing and  setting  sun,  there  exists  not  one  slave  among  the 
hundred  and  twenty  millions  of  her  subjects  ;  for  whatever 
tyranny  may  be  exercised  under  the  name  of  apprentice- 
ship in  the  West  Indies,  every  man,  woman,  and  child  in 
those  islands,  by  law  as  well  as  by  equity,  is  free.  .  .  . 
My  heart's  desire  and  prayer  is  that  the  reign  of  Victoria 
may  be  rendered  more  illustrious  than  that  of  any  one  of 
her  predecessors  in  their  day,  by  being  a  reign  of  mercy,  a 
reign  of  peace  ;  so  that  wherever  the  ensigns  of  her  author- 
ity appear,  they  may  be  the  pledges  of  her  benignity,  not 
to  her  subjects  alone,  but  to  all  kindreds  and  nations  with 
whom  she  is  in  concord." 

In  the  course  of  the  evening,  the  spirited  ode  —  "The 
Sceptre  in  a  Maiden  Hand,"  was  sung  by  the  choir  to  the 
air  of  "  Rule  Britannia,"  which  was  received  with  raptur- 
ous applause. 

"While  these  festivities  were  enlivening  the  higher,  the 
poet  was  not  unmindful  of  humbler  circles.  Accordingly 
he  wrote  and  circulated  the  following  appeal : 

"  '  Gather  up  the  fragments  that  remain,  that  nothing 

may  be  lost? 

"  So  said  our  Saviour  after  he  had  fed  five  thousand  men 
in  the  wilderness  with  five  barley  loaves  and  two  small 
fishes,  and  so  will  all  his  followers  do  whenever  they  have 
opportunity.  Tens  of  thousands  of  our  townspeople  will 
be  feasted  by  their  friends,  their  employers,  or  from  their 
own  abundance,  on  the  coronation  day  of  our  most  gra- 


APPEAL    FOR    THE   POOR.  319 

cious  sovereign  Victoria.  Let  it  then  be  indeed  c  a  good 
day,'  '  a  day  of  feasting  and  joy,  and  of  sending  portions  to 
one  another,  and  gifts  to  the  poor.''  (Esther,  ix.  17-20). 
Among  the  latter,  let  us  not  forget  the  poorest  of  the  poor, 
— the  old,  infirm,  and  desolate  of  that  sex  to  which  our  young 
and  lovely  Queen  belongs  ;  and  while  we  i  eat  the  fat  and 
drink  the  sweet,'  let  us  '  send  portions  unto  them  for  whom 
nothing  is  prepared.'  (Nehemiah,  viii.  9.)  The  visitors  of 
the  Aged  Female  Society  purpose  on  the  day  after  the  cor- 
onation (Friday,  the  29th  instant)  to  invite  the  venerable 
objects  of  this  benevolent  institution  to  take  tea  with  them 
(by  favor  of  the  master  cutler)  at  the  Cutler's  Hall ;  that 
these  —  the  youngest  of  whom  is  more  than  thrice,  and  the 
greater  number  four  times  the  age  of  her  Majesty  —  may 
have  a  day  of  humble  feasting  and  as  hearty  gladness  as 
the  youngest  and  strongest  of  those  on  whom  Providence 
has  bestowed  gifts  more  abounding.  Let  such  then  but 
contribute  the  value  of  the  crumbs  that  fall  from  their  well- 
spread  tables  on  that  day  of  universal  hospitality,  and  their 
mites  cast  into  the  treasury  will  be  sufficient  to  furnish  i  the 
widow  and  her  who  has  none  to  help  her,'  with  an  even- 
ing's entertainment  which  will  be  remembered  with  grati- 
tude to  the  last  evening  of  her  long  and  suffering  life.  The 
funds  of  the  charity  are  so  limited,  that  less  than  four-pence 
per  week  is  all  that  can  be  afforded,  on  the  average,  to 
each  of  its  poor  objects.  It  cannot,  however,  be  doubted, 
that  the  compassionate  liberality  of  its  well-wishers  will  en- 
able the  ladies  of  the  committee  to  make  three  hundred  old 
hearts  happy,  at  a  season  when  millions  of  all  ages  and  con- 
ditions throughout  the  British  Empire  will  be  rejoicing  to- 
gether." 

This  appeal  was  not  in  vain.    About  twenty  pounds  were 
collected,  and  a  bouncing  bottle  of  Jamaica  rum,  which  had 


320  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

not  come  into  the  poet's  account.  Its  seeming  unavailabil- 
ity sorely  puzzled  him  ;  it  was  finally  exchanged  for  wine, 
and  Montgomery  and  his  friends,  the  next  day,  with  three 
hundred  poor,  elderly  women,  drank  the  health  of  their 
fair,  young  Queen. 

"  Among  the  myriads  of  feastings  throughout  the  land," 
he  said,  "  I  doubt  whether  there  was  one  at  which  more 
genuine  and  hearty  delight  was  felt  than  at  the  tea-drinking 
which  we  gave  to  the  Aged  Female  Society." 

"  We've  all  been  queens  to-day  !"  said  one  poor  woman 
in  the  joy  of  her  heart. 

The  middle  of  this  year,  Montgomery  received  a  diploma 
of  complimentary  membership  from  a  society  in  the  United 
States'    "far  West." 

"  Some  time  since,"  replies  the  poet,  "  I  was  favored 
with  a  communication  from  you  in  behalf  of  the So- 
ciety of College,  in  the  i  far  West.'     The  latter  phrase, 

which  occurs  at  the  beginning  of  your  letter,  has  more 
poetry  in  it  than  all  the  four  quartoes  besides.  Onward ! 
onicard !  onward!  is  your  one  text,  and  the  history  of  all 
generations  to  come  will  be  its  interminable  commentary. 
Nothing  —  amidst  all  the  labors  and  enterprises  of  your 
countrymen,  consisting  of  as  many  tongues  —  is  of  more 
value  and  importance,  nor  will  any  be  mora  permanently 
beneficial  and  influential,  than  those  in  which  you  and  your 
associates  are  so  honorably  engaged.  For  just  in  propor- 
tion as  learning — from  the  highest,  the  'knowledge  of  the 
Holy  Scriptures,  which  are  able  to  make  wise  unto  salva- 
tion, through  faith  in  Jesus  Christ,'  through  all  the  grada- 
tions of  science  and  literature,  to  the  humblest  rudiments 
of  instruction  in  the  log-hut  or  the  forest  sanctuary — just 
in  proportion  as  learning,  thus  comprehensively  understood, 


LETTER   TO    A    "FAR    WEST"    COLLEGE.         321 

is  successfully  promulgated,  will  the  glory,  the  happiness, 
and  the  security  of  your  nation  and  her  institutions  be  con- 
firmed, promoted,  and  perpetuated.  The  literature  of  both 
countries  is  yours,  and  that  which  is  of  native  growth  with 
you  will  pay  ample  interest  for  the  capital  stock  of  our 
rearing,  through  eight  centuries,  which  you  have  borrowed 
from  us — that  is,  if  you  do  justice  to  yourselves,  and  eman- 
cipate your  literature  as  you  have  emancipated  your  terri- 
tory from  our  yoke,  however  light,  and  even  honorable  to 
bear,  that  may  be.  Our  standards  of  excellence  will  ever 
be  yours,  as  well  as  ours ;  and  the  most  that  either  of  us 
can  do  will  be  to  rival  them ;  but  we  must  each  do  this  in 
our  own  way :  your  literature,  therefore,  must  be  no  longer 
colonial^  but  national,  as  all  else  in  your  polity  is.  You 
have  indeed  some  noble  examples,  both  in  prose  and  rhyme 
(but  more  especially  in  the  former),  of  indigenous  produc- 
tion, which  must  at  once  be  recognized  as  American  in 
style,  subject,  and  spirit,  yet  pure  in  the  dialect  of  our 
best  models  of  the  last  fifty  years.  The  diffusion  of  our 
common  language  —  not  only  over  North  America,  but 
sown,  as  the  seeds  of  it  are,  in  every  quarter  of  the  globe 
as  formerly  divided,  and  throughout  Australia  and  Poly- 
nesia—  is  an  animating  consideration  to  those  who  seek 
through  literature  to  obtain  '  an  honest  fame  or  none.'  It 
has  truly  been  one  of  the  sweetest  rewards  of  the  sacrifices 
which  I  have  made  to  be  enrolled  among  poets,  —  how 
brief  soever  my  immortality  among  men  maybe,  —  to  learn 
from  many  pens  and  voices  of  the  West,  and  the  'far 
West,'  that  I  have  not  labored  in  vain,  though  I  chose 
neither  a  popular  nor  a  fashionable,  nor  even  a  classical 
wralk  of  composition  in  which  to  try  my  powers.  The  re- 
cognition of  my  humble  claims  by  the  youth  of Col- 
lege has  been  one  more  gratifying  seal  of  my  comparative 


322  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

success.  So  far  as  I  have  striven  lawfully  for  distinction, 
may  each  of  your  candidates  follow  my  steps,  but  with 
greater  and  happier  results  to  himself  and  mankind  !  " 

On  the  5th  of  October  Montgomery  left  Sheffield  for 
Bristol,  to  deliver,  before  the  members  of  the  Philosophical 
Society  in  that  city,  his  course  of  six  lectures  on  the  Brit- 
ish Poets,  which  were  received  with  a  degree  of  eclat  as 
little  expected  by  the  poet  himself  as  it  seems  to  have 
been  anticipated  by  the  gentlemen  who  engaged  him.  In 
one  of  the  local  journals  he  was  greeted  with  an  address  in 
rhyme,  which  ended  with  these  hues : 

"  Thrice  welcome  to  our  city,  bard  beloved  ! 
Patriot  and  Christian,  honored  and  approved  ! 
Thou  know'st  her  worth  —  hast  sung  her  Reynolds'  praise, 
In  warm  and  generous,  unforgotten  lays ; 
And,  as  some  mother  whose  beloved  son 
Hath  from  a  stranger  gracious  honors  won, 
Looks  she  on  thee  ;  but  here  that  name  must  end,  — 
No  stranger  now,  but  ever  dear  —  a  friend  I" 

In  the  first  week  of  December  he  went  to  Birmingham, 
and  commenced  the  delivery  of  the  same  course,  before 
"  one  of  the  largest  and  most  respectable  audiences  ever 
seen  assembled  on  a  similar  occasion  within  the  walls  of  the 
Philosophical  Institution." 

"  I  have  not  written  earlier,"  he  writes  to  Mr.  Holland 
from  Birmingham,  at  the  close  of  1838,  "for  two  very  suf- 
ficient reasons  —  I  really  had  nothing  to  write  about,  and 
I  have  had  no  time  to  write  about  nothing.  Never,  I  may 
say,  have  I  been  more  actively  engaged  than  it  has  been 
my  lot  to  be  from  the  peculiar  pressure  of  circumstances 
since  the  beginning  of  October,  either  at  home  in  connec- 
tion with  the  new  and  unexpectedly  prosperous  plan  of 


LECTURING    TOUR.  323 

establishing  a  House  of  Recovery  at  Sheffield,  or  abroad 
in  delivering  my  lectures  on  the  principal  British  Poets  at 
Bristol,  Birmingham,  and  Worcester.  The  impunity  with 
which  I  bore  the  physical  labor,  and  the  success  which  ac- 
companied the  intellectual  exercises  of  this  undertaking  in 
the  former  city,  emboldened  me  to  venture  upon  the  ex- 
periment of  repeating  the  same  exertions  here,  as  well  as 
making  three  visits  to  "Worcester  in  the  intervals  of  each 
week.  From  the  newspapers  you  will  have  learned  that 
here  I  have  been  most  cordially  welcomed  and  counte- 
nanced by  such  audiences  as  it  is  a  delight  to  look  upon 
from  behind  a  reading-desk,  lending  all  their  eyes  and  all 
their  ears,  with  all  their  hearts  too,  when  a  feeble  thing 
like  me  is  fervently  and  honestly  endeavoring  to  please 
them  indeed,  but  to  do  them  good  also  in  pleasing  them." 

The  year  1839  followed  on  with  its  manifold  engage- 
ments. 

".  .  .  .  During  the  months  of  April  and  May,"  he 
writes  in  July  to  Mr.  Bennett,  "  I  was  much  from  home, 
and  though  hospitable  friends  made  me  a  home  wherever  I 
was  cast  as  a  stranger,  yet  being  from  my  own  fireside,  my 
time  was  necessarily  occupied  day  by  day  in  what  the  day 
required  me  to  do,  to  suffer,  or  to  enjoy,  —  for  every  day  has 
sufficient  of  each  to  make  me  humble,  diligent,  and  thank- 
ful. At  Newark,  Grandham,  Lincoln,  and  Nothingham  I 
delivered  Lectures,  which  in  each  place  were  well  attended. 
In  May  I  went  to  Bristol  to  a  missionary  meeting,  and  imme- 
diately on  my  return  entered  upon  a  series  of  engagements 
of  a  similar  kind  in  Stafford,  from  which  I  am  just  cleared. 

"To-morrow  (19th  of  June,  1839),  it  will  be  fifty  years 
since  I  took  a  step  which  turned  the  whole  course  of  my 
life  into  a  channel  entirely  contrary  to  its  early  and  proper 
destination. 


324  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

"  "Wliat  I  have  thus  forfeited,  what  I  have  thus  lost,  in 
time  and  for  eternity,  He  only  can  know  who  sees  all  things 
as  they  are,  as  they  might  have  been,  and  as  they  ought  to 
be.  Fifty  years  ago  I  cast  myself  away  —  but  lie  did  not 
cast  me  away.  Goodness  and  mercy  have  followed  me  all 
my  days,  through  all  my  wanderings ;  and  it  is  yet  possible 

—  for  with  God  all  things  are  possible  —  that  I  may  dwell 
in  his  house  for  ever.  Amen  !  Amen  !  So  be  it !  And 
there  may  I  meet  you  and  all  whom  we  have  loved  that 
are  gone  thither  already,  and  all  whom  we  love,  and  are 
yet  on  the  way !  The  first  of  my  hymns  in  the  '  Chris- 
tian Psalmist,'  beginning  CI  left  the  God  of  truth  and 
light,'  was  written  on  the  anniversary  of  that  apostate  act 
of  sin,  of  folly,  and  of  shame,  in  1807  — sixteen  years  after 
I  had  committed  it." 

On  the  25th  of  October  of  the  same  year,  the  Wesleyans, 
not  only  in  Great  Britain  but  in  every  quarter  of  the  world, 
celebrated  the  "  Centenary  of  Methodism  "  with  appropri- 
ate religious  services,  including  the  singing  of  a  hymn  "  A 
hundred  years  ago,"  composed  for  the  occasion  by  Mont- 
gomery, and  published,  with  musical  accompaniments  by 
different  parties,  at  the  beginning  of  the  year. 

"  On  that  day,"  said  he,  in  a  missionary  speech  a  month 
afterwards,  "  from  the  rising  of  the  sun  to  the  going  down 
of  the  same,  and  in  different  lands  throughout  his  entire 
circuit  round  the  globe,  there  had  not  been  one  hour, 
through  the  four-and-twenty,  in  which,  from  some  portion 
of  the  Wesleyan  body,  had  not  been  ascending  to  heaven 

—  glory  to  God  in  the  highest,  on  earth  peace,  good  will 
towards  men  !  On  that  day  the  grace  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  had  been  abundantly  poured  upon  the  congrega- 
tions, and  families,  and  individual  members  who  entered 


REPLY    AND    COUNTER   REPLY.  325 

into  the  spirit  of  that  religions  commemoration.  But  while 
the  praises  of  that  hallowed  day  were  for  the  past,  the 
prayers  of  the  faithful  were  put  up  for  the  blessing  of  God 
on  the  succeeding  century.  Not  one  of  the  assembly  pre- 
sent will  witness  the  termination  of  the  century  just  com- 
menced ;  but  their  children  may  then  be  living  —  and  what 
will  be  the  state  of  the  world  at  that  time  ?  Assuredly,  if 
the  Spirit  of  God  so  prosper  the  work  during  the  present 
as  He  has  done  during  the  past  century  —  if  you  and  your 
successors  labor  and  pray  as  your  fathers  have  done,  the 
triumphs  of  the  Redeemer,  achieved  through  his  instru- 
mentality, at  the  close  of  another  hundred  years,  will  be 
celebrated  not  only  in  as  many  lands  and  as  many  lan- 
guages as  at  present,  but  in  every  land  and  language  under 
heaven." 

Fidelity  to  his  Master  is  touchingly  illustrated  in  a  reply 
and  counter-reply  to  the  treasurer  of  the  "  London  Associa- 
tion in  Aid  of  the  Brethren's  Missions,"  who  wrote  beo-a-ina: 
Montgomery  to  be  present  at  a  public  meeting  of  the 
society  in  Birmingham. 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say,"  he  replies,  "  that  I  have  not  the 
heart  to  undertake  the  journey  to  Birmingham,  .  .  . 
and  must  therefore  earnestly  entreat  you  to  forgive  me 
for  declining  this  engagement."  He  felt,  however,  that 
should  the  cause  at  all  suffer  through  lack  of  his  services, 
he  should  not  forgive  himself:  accordingly  next  morning 
he  revoked  his  hasty  decision  in  a  letter  commencing 
thus:  —  "My  dear  friend,  —  Read  Matthew  xxi.  28-31. 
This  parable  has  pressed  so  hard  upon  me  since  I  wrote  my 
perverse  note  yesterday  evening,  in  answer  to  yours  pro- 
posing a  missionary  visit  to  Birmingham  instead  of  Man- 
chester, that,  to  deliver  my  conscience,  I  will  endeavor  to 
28 


326  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

go  to  the  former  place.  .  .  .  You  see  my  weakness, 
not  to  call  it  by  a  harsher  name  :  pray  for  me,  that  I  may 
have  more  faith  and  patience  to  employ  the  little  strength 
yet  left  me." 

On  Monday,  February  1st,  1841,  the  friends  of  Rev. 
William  Jay,  of  Bath,  commemorated  the  fiftieth  anniver- 
sary of  his  settlement  as  pastor  of  the  Argyle-street  Chapel, 
in  that  city.  Christian  men  and  women  without  distinction 
of  sects  came  to  testify  their  respect  for  the  worth  and  use- 
fulness of  this  venerable  servant  of  God  ;  "  a  blessed  evi- 
dence," said  Montgomery,  "  of  a  Philadelphian  spirit  yet 
living  and  breathing  in  a  Laodicean  age." 

The  poet's  presence  was  invoked ;  it  breathed  out  in  his 
hymns,  glowing  with  all  the  significant  memorials  of  the 
delightful  occasion,  the  singing  of  which  formed  one  of  the 
most  interesting  parts  of  the  special  service  of  the  day.  "  I 
have  read  the  proceedings,"  he  writes  to  the  chairman  of 
the  Jubilee  Committee,  in  answer  to  the  accounts  sent  him, 
"  with  great  delight :  for  yet,  amidst  all  the  strife,  envy, 
and  un charitableness  hi  churches  and  between  churches,  so 
flagrant  at  this  time,  you  have  shown  that  there  are  occa- 
sions, and  there  may  be  found  professors,  when  and  of 
whom  even  an  ungodly  world  can  say,  '  See  how  these 
Christians  love  one  another !'  Alas,  how  seldom  is  this 
exemplified  ! 

"  I  thought  much  of  you  on  the  two  days,  especially  on 
the  Tuesday,  when  the  meetings  —  the  love-feasts,  I  ought 
to  call  them  —  were  held,  because  with  us  the  weather  was 
tempestuous,  and  I  feared  that  many  of  your  friends  might 
be  disappointed.  It  appears,  however,  that  whatever 
storms  might  rage  without,  there  was  peace  within,  and 
as  many  to  enjoy  it  as  the  rooms  would  contain.  I  am 
greatly  indebted  to  Mrs.  Goodwin  for  the  jubilee  medallion, 


LETTER    TO   MR.    BENNETT.  327 

the  workmanship  of  which  seems  to  me  admirable  ;  the 
likeness  of  your  good  pastor  is  excellent,  and  the  simple 
register  of  dates  on  either  side  the  most  appropriate  inscrip- 
tion in  such  a  case.  It  was  a  beautiful  and  affecting  sequel 
to  the  solemnities  of  the  Sabbath,  and  the  festivities  of  the 
breakfast  on  Tuesday,  that  the  children  and  the  youth  were 
allowed  to  bring  their  offerings  of  gratitude  and  love  to 
the  father  in  the  gospel  of  both  old  and  young  in  your 
church  and  congregation.  I  have  only  to  add  my  heart's 
desire  and  prayer  to  God  for  you  all,  that  every  one  of  the 
number  of  those  who  participated  in  the  privileges  of  those 
two  memorable  days  may  be  finally  associated  in  that  place 
where,  a  thousand  and  ten  thousand  ages  hence,  each  may 
remember  with  adoring  gratitude  the  blessedness  of  those 
meetings  on  earth,  which  many  of  you,  no  doubt,  felt  to 
be  an  earnest  and  foretaste  of  the  glories  and  felicities  of 
that  house  of  God,  eternal  in  the  heavens, 

u  Where  congregations  ne'er  break  up7 
And  Sabbaths  have  no  end." 

A  few  weeks  later,  March  22d,  he  writes  to  Mr.  Bennett: 
"  Since  I  wrote  last  I  have  been  much  of  the  time  at 
Ockbrook,  whither  I  was  summoned  soon  after  to  visit  my 
long  afflicted  brother  Ignatius,  who  appeared  as  near  to 
the  gates  of  death  as  life  could  be  without  the  peril  of  in- 
stant dissolution.  .  .  .  Nothing  can  be  more  affecting 
nor  more  consoling  than  his  humble  looks  and  language : 
yet  absent  in  the  body,  his  spirit  is  already  present  with 
the  Lord.  .  .  .  Mr.  Roberts  never,  in  my  remembrance, 
looked  better  or  heartier  —  brown  and  ruddy,  and  full  of 
muscular  and  mental  energy  on  the  verge  of  fourscore 
years.     You  will  probably  have  received  proofs  of  his  re- 


328  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

doubtable  intellect  in  a  new  tract  of  112  pages,  denouncing 
the  Poor  Law  Commissioners  and  the  whole  system  of 
pauper  treatment  in  this  most  humane  and  enlightened 
Christian  country.  You  and  he,  when  you  meet,  may 
discuss  the  merits  of  this  performance.  It  is  a  subject 
beyond  my  comprehension.  I  am  not  sorry  to  find  that 
you  are  already  in  the  field  against  the  War-fiend,  who  is 
struggling  in  various  quarters,  a  second  time,  to  embroil 
all  Christendom  in  the  horrors  and  crimes  of  that  '  game,' 
at  which  '  were  their  people  wise,  kings  would  not  often 
play.'  The  Duke  of  Wellington  well  said,  in  reference  to 
the  miserable  outbreak  in  Canada,  '  England  cannot  have  a 
little  war.'  No  ;  if  we  fall  out  with  America,  we  shall  not 
long  be  at  peace  with  France ;  and  with  the  latter  we 
cannot  be  long  at  war  without  all  the  powers  of  Europe 
being  involved  in  the  quarrel,  some  with,  some  against  us. 
Then,  in  the  'Dance  of  Death,'  'change  hands,  cross  over,' 
with  each  in  turn  for  our  partner,  and  all  in  turn  our 
enemies,  the  only  worse  thing  than  being  our  allies,  as  it 
happened  during  the  revolution.  I  heartily  wish  you 
success  in  your  campaign,  and  that  'the  dogs  of  War,' 
whether  in  America,  France,  the  Levant,  India,  or  China, 
may  have  nothing  to  gnaw  but  their  chains,  till  such 
engines  of  wholesale  destruction  shall  be  perfected  as  Bona- 
parte himself,  which,  though  he  would  not  have  scrupled 
to  employ,  he  would  not  have  dared  to  encounter.  Then, 
'  Farewell,  war,  forever  ! '  " 

On  Easter  Monday  we  find  him  as  usual  at  the  annual 
dinner  of  the  Chimney  Sweeps  at  Cutler's  Hall,  this  being 
its  thirty-fourth  anniversary.  In  the  evening  he  presided 
and  spoke  with  his  wonted  fervor  at  a  meeting  of  the 
London  Missionary  Society. 

On  the  following  day  he  was  present  at  the  opening  of  a 


BURIAL    OF    IGNATIUS.  329 

small  school  at  Wincobank,  where  the  boys  and  girls  sang 
the  hymn, 

"  A  children's  temple  here  we  raise," 

written  for  the  occasion:  thus    "on  benign  commissions 
bent," 

"  Like  a  patriarchal  sage, 

Holy,  humble,  cautious,  mild, 
He  could  blend  the  awe  of  age 
With  the  sweetness  of  a  child," 

and  "  prove  himself  the  minister  of  all." 

On  the  29th  of  April,  his  brother  beloved,  Ignatius, 
breathed  his  last,  at  the  age  of  sixty-five,  "having  proved 
himself  a  good  and  faithful  servant  to  various  congregations 
of  the  United  Brethren  in  England  and  Ireland." 

May-day  Montgomery  went  to  Ockbrook,  where  he  was 
joined  by  his  only  surviving  brother,  Robert,  from  Wool- 
wich. 

Together  they  took  their  last  look  on  the  departed  one, 
"and  there  were  yet  lingering"  [on  the  face],  James  tells 
us,  "  traces  of  that  placid  resignation  which  had  always 
marked  it  in  life  —  the  lingering  twilight  which  followed 
the  shining  of  that  Sun  of  Righteousness  amidst  which  the 
spirit  of  a  good  man  has  passed  into  a  better  world." 

He  was  buried  near  the  chapel  at  Ockbrook,  with  the 
touching  services  of  the  Moravian  church,  the  lark  singing 
sweetly  overhead,  and  the  finches  thrilling  in  the  trees 
during  the  ceremony. 

"  Never  were  joy  and  grief  more  solemnly  and  happily 
mingled,"  writes  the  bereaved  brother  to  Mr.  Bennett,  "than 
on  that  occasion,  when,  after  our  simple  burial-service,  the 

members  of  our  small  congregation  had  a  social  meeting 

28* 


330  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

(we  call  such,  "love-feasts")  in  the  chapel,  where  a  brief 
memorial  of  the  departed  was  read,  and  an  ode  of  collected 
verses,  according  to  our  practice,  of  various  measures  and 
tunes,  was  sung,  treating  of  the  blessedness  of  those  who 
are  forever  with  the  Lord. 

"  My  brother  Robert  is  now  with  me  at  Sheffield,  and 
next  week  accompanies  me  for  a  few  days  to  Fulneck.  In 
the  beginning  of  June  I  am  engaged  to  accompany  our 
friend,  the  Rev.  Peter  Latrobe,  on  a  missionary  visit  to 
Scotland,  my  native  country,  on  which  I  have  not  set  foot 
since  the  year  1776,  when,  as  a  child,  I  was  transplanted  to 
Ireland,  and  thence,  in  1777,  transferred  to  England,  where 
I  have  become  so  rooted,  and  apparently  so  irradicable, 
that  neither  our  late  Rowland  [Hodgson]  nor  yourself 
could,  even  for  a  short  time,  carry  me  off  to  the  Conti- 
nent, or  across  the  Atlantic.  But  I  believe  I  am  where  I 
ought  to  be,  and  have  no  choice  that  I  dare  make,  except 
manifestly  directed  by  that  good  Providence  which,  after 
I  had  once  made  a  bad  choice  for  myself,  has  not  forsaken 
me.     I  feel  myself '  faint,  yet  pursuing.' " 

It  was  during  this  family  affliction  at  Ockbrook,  that  he 
wrote  the  hymn,  Father  !  thy  will,  not  mine  be  done. 


CHAPTER    XVII. 

VISIT  TO  SCOTLAND  —  RECEPTION  AT  GLASGOW — DR.  WARDLAW'S  SPEECH 
OF  WELCOME  —  MONTGOMERY'S  REPLY  —  HIS  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  MORA- 
VIANS—  PUBLIC  BREAKFAST — RECEPTION  AT  HIS  NATIVE  PLACE  — 
RECEPTION  AT  GREENWICH,  STIRLING,  DUNDEE,  EDINBURGH,  ETC.  — 
DR.  IIUIE'S  SPEECH  —  CONTRIBUTION  FOR  MORAVIAN  MISSIONS  —  MONT- 
GOMERY'S  APPEARANCE    IN   COMPANY. 

"I  am  a  Scotchman,"  said  Montgomery,  "because  I  was 
born  in  Scotland ;  I  ought  to  have  been  an  Irishman,  be- 
cause both  my  parents  were  such ;  and  I  pass  for  an  En- 
glishman, because  I  was  caught  young  and  imported  hither 
before  I  was  six  years  old,  and  have  never  since  seen  my 
native  country  except  as  a  dim  wreath  of  haze  from  the 
top  of  Ilelvellyn  and  Skiddaw." 

The  current  of  business  never  seems  to  have  set  towards 
Scotland  ;  and  the  multiplicity  of  his  more  positive  engage- 
ments had  hitherto  left  him  little  time  to  make  pleasure 
and  mere  personal  gratification  the  aim  of  a  journey 
thither. 

As  he  grew  older,  travelling  towards  his  setting  sun, 
its  slanting  beams,  gilding  the  tree-tops  of  his  early  days, 
retintcd  the  past  and  awoke  an  unspeakable  yearning  to 
revisit  his  native  town  and  country. 

A  favorable  opportunity  at  length  offered,  when  Rev. 
Peter  Latrobe  invited  the  poet  to  accompany  him  to  Scot- 


332  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

land  in  behalf  of  the  Moravian  Missions,  thus  linking  a  noble 
object  with  the  enjoyments  of  the  journey. 

They  started  from  Sheffield  on  the  24th  of  September, 
1841,  and  three  days  after  we  find  them  in  a  large  assem- 
bly in  the  Trades'  Hall  of  Glasgow,  convened  on  behalf  of 
the  cause  they  came  to  advocate. 

After  the  business  of  the  morning  was  introduced,  Dr. 
Wardlaw  arose,  from  whose  eloquent  speech  we  catch  the 
spirit  of  the  day,  and  the  right  hearty  hospitality  of  their 
Scottish  welcome. 

"  I  never  arose,"  said  the  revered  speaker,  "  with  greater 
pleasure  on  any  occasion  than  I  now  feel  in  introducing 
these  dear  Christian  friends,  who  will  best  and  most  effec- 
tually introduce  themselves,  and  will  recommend  both 
themselves  and  the  cause  of  their  visit  to  Glasgow.  I 
now  rise,  however,  with  the  more  pleasure,  because  I  take 
delight  in  looking  these  friends  in  the  face,  in  seeing  them 
amongst  us,  in  hailing  their  presence,  in  giving  them  the 
right  hand  of  fellowship,  and  in  co-o]3erating  along  with 
all  who  are  now  present  in  that  good  and  blessed  cause 
to  which  we  are  indebted  for  their  presence.  With  regard 
to  the  friend  on  your  right  hand,  I  have  not  the  pleasure 
of  his  personal  acquaintance  ;  but  the  name  of  Latrobe  is 
associated  with  every  hallowed  recollection.  I  cannot  for- 
get the  name  of  him  who  was  the  intimate  friend  of  Wil- 
berforce  and  other  eminent  Christian  philanthropists  of  his 
day ;  and  in  connection  with  the  African  mission,  many  a 
time  have  I  heard  the  name  of  Latrobe,  under  my  father's 
domestic  roof,  from  the  lips  of  the  late  Dr.  Balfour,  whose 
name  cannot  be  mentioned  in  this  city  without  calling  forth 
feelings  of  affection  and  veneration  in  every  bosom  which 
had  the  happiness  to  know  him.  And  it  is  a  very  delight- 
ful thing  when  the  work  of  God  is  thus  handed  down  from 


DR.    WARD  L  AAV 'S    SPEECH.  333 

father  to  son,  carried  clown  from  generation  to  generation, 
and  race  after  race  helps  it  towards  its  perfection.  With 
regard  to  the  other  dear  friend  on  your  left  hand,  my  ac- 
quaintance with  him  is  of  a  far,  far  more  remote  date ;  for 
it  began  in  The  World  before  the  Mood.  I  had  known  a 
little  of  him  before ;  but  it  was  there  that  I  became  first 
intimately  acquainted  with  the  character  of  his  mind,  and 
with  the  intellect,  the  genius,  the  imagination,  the  taste, 
the  feeling,  and  the  piety  with  which  that  mind  is  distin- 
guished. I  do  delight,  Mr.  Chairman,  and  I  trust  that  all 
here  will  respond  to  the  expression  of  delight,  in  the  con- 
templation of  sanctified  genius  —  of  genius  baptized  into 
Christ,  and  invested  with  a  halo  of  heavenly  purity  and 
love.  There  was  a  time,  and  that  not  far  distant,  when  we 
were  accustomed  to  use  the  designation  of  the  Christian 
Poet ;  and  every  one  who  heard  that  designation  knew  to 
whom  it  referred  —  the  poet  Cowper — .and  he  eminently 
deserved  the  designation.,  But  it  is  the  delight  of  our 
hearts  to  know  that  the  definite  article  is  now  superseded. 
We  have  more  Christian  poets  than  one ;  and  pre-eminent 
amongst  them  stands  the  friend  on  your  left  hand.  I  can- 
not imagine  any  responsibility  more  heavy  than  the  pos- 
session of  lofty  powers  of  genius,  unconnected  with  piety, 
and  unconsecrated  to  the  praise  of  that  God  by  whom 
they  were  bestowed.  Such  powers  have  always  appeared 
to  me  like  lamps  of  j)ure  oil  gleaming  in  the  midst  of  se- 
pulchral darkness  and  corruption.  There  is  a  deep  respon- 
sibility connected  with  the  possession  of  such  powers  ;  but 
we  rejoice  to  know  that  these  powers  have  been  in  an 
eminent  manner,  by  our  friend,  devoted  to  the  honor  and 
consecrated  to  the  service  of  God,  and  the  advancement 
of  human  happiness  in  the  highest  degree.  He  has  con- 
secrated these  powers  to  the  service  of  God  and  the  pro- 


334  LIFE   OF   MONTGOMERY. 

motion  of  all  that  is  connected  with  the  present  and 
everlasting  happiness  of  mankind.  We  rejoice  therefore 
in  having  him  amongst  us  ;  and  we  rejoice  because  we 
regard  him  as  a  Christian  poet,  and  one  belonging  to  our 
own  land.  "When  first  I  had  the  happiness  of  becoming 
acquainted  with  him  personally,  I  found  him,  I  may  be 
allowed  to  say,  in  the  most  unpoetical  place  it  was  possible 
for  a  poet  to  occupy  —  in  the  very  centre  of  the  dark, 
dusky,  smoky  town  of  Sheffield ;  and  it  seemed  to  me  as 
if  he  had  chosen  that  particular  place  to  illustrate  the 
words,  i  Ex  fumo  dare  lucem  ! '  He  has  now  changed 
his  residence  —  he  is  now  on  The  Mount,  the  very  place 
where  a  poet  ought  to  be.  He  belongs  to  ourselves ;  Scot- 
land claims  him  for  her  own ;  and  it  would  i  ill  the  bard 
beseem '  to  be  ashamed  of  Scotland ;  but  whatever  may 
be  the  feeling  on  his  part,  Irvine  and  Scotland  will  never 
be  ashamed,  but  consider  it  an  honor  to  have  given  him 
birth.  But  he  is  now  amongst  us  in  another  capacity.  As 
has  been  publicly  announced  to  us,  he  is  the  son  of  mission- 
ary parents,  and  that  is  no  small  honor  —  of  missionary 
j^arents  too,  who,  after  having  submitted  to  terrible  calami- 
ties, sleep,  as  the  poet  has  told  us,  where  the  sun 

"  '  Shines  without  a  shadow  on  their  graves.' 

I  cannot  help  being  struck  with  that  line,  not  only  from 
the  fact  it  states,  that  his  parents  sleep  under  a  vertical 
sun,  but  because  associated  with  that  fact  is  the  pleasing 
thought  that  all  is  light  over  that  hallowed  spot  far  away, 

"  '  Where  rest  the  ashes  of  the  sainted  dead.'  " 

Mr.  Latrobe  reciprocated  this  Christian  salutation,  after 
which  Montgomery  presented  the  claims  of  the  brethren  : 


HIS    SPEECH    IN   GLASGOW.  335 

"  In  this  place  I  ought  to  address  you  as  brethren  and 
sisters,"  he  said  —  and  as  his  remarks  unfold  glimpses  of 
Moravian  history,  we  give  them  at  large  —  "I  am  your 
countryman,  and  for  the  first  time  after  a  lapse  of  three- 
score years,  I  appear  on  my  native  soil.  I  feel  it  to  be  a 
high  privilege  to  be  permitted  to  meet  you,  and  to  make 
my  public  appearance  as  your  countryman,  in  a  place 
where,  in  one  of  the  first  sentences  I  heard  from  the 
reverend  gentleman  who  offered  up  the  opening  prayer, 
the  name  of  Jesus  was  mentioned.  That  is  the  name  in 
which  we  meet ;  that  is  the  name  that  is  peculiarly 
preached  as  Jesus  Christ  and  him  crucified  —  as  the  only 
ground  of  the  hope  of  salvation  for  perishing  sinners.  My 
friend  and  brother  Latrobe  alluded  to  one  of  the  peculiar 
institutions  of  our  Church,  namely,  the  body  of  interces- 
sors, whose  duty  it  is  to  bear  the  congregation  on  their 
hearts  in  faithful  prayer ;  but  we  do  not  thereby  set  aside 
the  all-prevailing  intercession  which  is  continually  made  be- 
fore the  throne  ;  we  know  only  God  the  Father,  and  the 
only  mediator  we  hold  is  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  [After 
explaining  this  peculiar  institution  a  little  more  at  large, 
Mr.  Montgomery  proceeded.]  You  have  heard  great,  and 
wonderful,  and  glorious  things  spoken  this  day  concerning 
the  United  Brethren.  Their  first  denomination  was  de- 
rived from  those  followers  of  IIuss  who  did  not  choose  to 
defend  their  liberty  and  religion  with  the  sword,  but  pre- 
ferred rather  to  suffer  than  to  fight.  Their  first  denomina- 
tion  was,  Brethren  of  the  Society  of  Jesus ;  but  there  was 
a  certain  reason  why  it  was  necessary  to  change  that  to  a 
simpler  form,  and  they  chose  to  be  called  the  '  United 
Brethren  ; '  united  in  Christ  as  the  Head,  having  the  ever- 
lasting strength  to  support  them,  and  infinite  wisdom  to 
guide  them.     But  who  are  the  United  Brethren  ?     "We  are 


336  LIFE   OF   MONTGOMERY. 

not  a  national  Church,  we  are  not  a  provincial  Church,  we 
are  not  a  denomination  separated  from  any  Church,  and 
confined  to  any  one  locality.  The  United  Brethren  have 
been  a  poor  and  an  afflicted  people  for  four  centuries  past, 
but  whose  trust  has  been  in  the  Lord  ;  and  they  have  been 
scattered  here  and  there  over  the  world.  At  the  time  of 
the  persecution,  which  for  two  centuries  threatened  to  ex- 
tirpate the  Church,  they  expatriated  themselves.  When 
the  Church  seemed  consumed  by  the  flames  of  persecution, 
becoming  seven  times  hotter  from  century  to  century,  and 
its  members  were  scattered  to  all  the  winds  of  heaven  from 
the  mountains  and  forests  of  Bohemia,  sparks  fell  from  be- 
yond the  boundary  of  that  country  —  sparks  which  the 
Lord's  Spirit  breathed  upon,  till  they  became  a  flame, 
which  will  not  be  extinguished  so  long  as  there  shall  exist 
hearts  in  which  that  flame  is  put,  and  whose  duty  it  is  to 
keep  it  continually  burning.  It  was  not  an  earthly  flame 
that  issued  out  of  that  burning  persecution,  but  a  light 
kindled  at  the  altar  before  the  throne  of  God,  and  which 
those  who  received  the  gospel  in  their  hearts  promised  to 
go  forth  and  preach  in  the  simplicity  of  men  who  were  de- 
termined to  know  nothing  on  earth  but  Jesus  Christ  and 
him  crucified  as  the  Saviour  of  sinners.  That  Church  has 
some  other  peculiarities.  It  is  the  least  of  all  the  tribes  of 
Israel ;  it  is  divided  into  widely  separated  sections ;  yet 
still  it  is  the  Church  of  the  United  Brethren  at  home  and 
abroad,  in  the  islands  of  the  West  Indies,  in  Greenland,  in 
Labrador,  in  North  America,  and  South  Africa.  Where- 
ever  it  has  carried  the  gospel,  it  has  still  been  as  a  united 
Church  —  united  in  spirit,  and  that  spirit  under  the  influ- 
ence and  guidance  of  the  Holy  Spirit  of  God.  We  are 
peculiar  in  another  respect.  The  great  work  we  are  called 
to  perform  is  far  beyond  the  temporal  means  of  support  of 


HIS    SPEECH    IN    GLASGOW.  337 

those  engaged  in  it.  It  has  pleased  the  Lord  to  make  the 
Church  of  the  Brethren  dependent  more  or  less  on  every 
other  Christian  Church  with  which  we  hold  communion 
and  fellowship  in  doctrine  and  worship.  The  annual  ex- 
pense of  12,000/.  for  supporting  our  missions  is  not  raised 
amongst  ourselves.  We  cannot,  with  the  utmost  exertion, 
produce  more  than  one  fourth,  or,  at  the  most,  one  third  of 
the  amount ;  but  the  Lord  has  made  his  people  willing,  on 
every  hand,  out  of  their  abundance  to  communicate  to  our 
necessities.  The  Lord  Jesus  himself  said,  '  It  is  more 
blessed  to  give  than  to  receive.'  The  greater  blessing  be- 
longs to  those  of  our  friends  on  whom  he  has  conferred  the 
privilege  of  giving;  and  we  must  hope  to  enjoy  the  smaller 
by  receiving  of  their  bounty.  What  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
has  given  to  you,  and  what  you,  as  his  stewards,  have 
bestowed  upon  us,  must  be  accounted  for  by  us  both  to 
Him  and  to  you ;  and  when  the  details  of  that  expenditure 
come  before  you,  it  will  be  apparent  that  there  has  been 
no  want  of  economy  in  all  our  arrangements.  My  friend 
has  intimated  how  self-denying  the  Brethren  are.  Our 
missionaries  labor  without  hire,  except  a  very  small  provi- 
sion for  the  education  of  their  children,  and  a  small  retir- 
ing allowance.  But  do  they  labor  without  wages  ?  No  ; 
they  ask  and  they  receive  the  greatest  reward  which  they 
can  enjoy  under  heaven  ;  they  are  not  content  with  a  less 
price  for  their  labors  and  privations  among  the  heathen 
than  that  which  will  satisfy  the  Redeemer,  when  He  shall 
see  of  the  travail  of  his  soul.  They  require  souls  for  their 
hire  ;  and  souls  in  the  last  day  shall  rise  up  and  come  from 
the  east  and  from  the  west,  from  the  north  and  from  the 
south,  and  shall  sit  down  with  them  and  with  Abraham, 
and  Isaac,   and  Jacob,   in  the  kingdom  of  their  father." 

Mr.  Montgomery  proceeded  briefly  to  sketch  the  history 
29 


338  LIFE   OF    MONTGOMERY. 

of  the  Moravian  Church,  the  origin  of  which  he  dated 
about  the  ninth  century,  when  missionaries  came  into  Mo- 
ravia, Bulgaria,  and  Bohemia,  with  the  Scriptures  in  their 
hands,  and  translated  them  into  the  languages  of  these 
provinces.  "  It  was  a  remarkable  fact,"  he  observed, 
"  that  a  princess  of  Bohemia  was  married  to  Richard  the 
Second ;  and  when  she  came  to  the  Court  of  Britain  she 
found  herself  among  those  who  professed  the  same  Chris- 
tian doctrines  as  herself;  and  she  became  the  patroness  of 
Wickliffe  and  the  Reformers  in  England,  as  she  had  patron- 
ized those  in  her  own  country  who  maintained  the  truth  in 
opposition  to  the  House  of  Austria.  They  held  the  Scrip- 
tures in  such  respect,  that  previous  to  the  Reformation 
three  editions  of  the  Bohemian  Scriptures  were  printed  by 
these  people,  and  used  throughout  that  province.  The  last 
effort  of  persecution  threw  them  with  their  families  into 
Alsatia,  where  they  founded  a  nourishing  Church ;  and 
thus  they  became  a  missionary  Church,  as  soon  as  they 
were  called  to  bear  the  cross  as  a  Church  of  martyrs."  He 
could  not,  after  three  days  of  fatiguing  travelling,  which 
was  more  than  could  well  be  borne  by  a  bruised  reed 
which  was  not  yet  broken,  and  smoking  flax  which  was  not 
yet  quenched,  enter  at  large  into  the  statement  to  which 
Mr.  Latrobe  had  invited  him.  He  proceeded  to  refer  to  a 
few  of  the  features  of  the  West  Indian  missions.  Advert- 
ing to  the  Danish  island  of  Santa  Cruz,  he  stated,  that  it 
had  been  proposed  to  him  to  suggest  to  the  leading  men  in 
the  Church  the  propriety  of  superseding  the  mixed  French, 
German,  Dutch,  and  English,  which  form  the  language  of 
the  islands,  with  the  English  alone,  which  it  was  proposed 
should  be  taught  in  the  mission  schools.  "  This,"  he  re- 
marked, "  was  a  proposal  not  to  be  hastily  taken  up,  nor  to 
be  hastily  laid  down  ;  for  he  was  persuaded  that  the  time 


HIS    SPEECH    IN    GLASGOW.  339 

might  come,  and  he  trusted  that  the  time  would  come, 
when  all  the  nations  should  have  one  language,  and  that 
lanjniaere  the  English.  The  island  of  Santa  Cruz  was  with- 
out  a  parallel  in  the  history  of  missions,  and  without  an 
example  in  the  history  of  the  world.  It  was  purchased  by 
a  Danish  councillor  from  the  French  who  had  deserted  it, 
and  left  it  to  lie  waste  for  forty  years.  They  had  heard  to- 
day that  it  now  embraces  a  population  of  25,000.  It  oc- 
cured  to  this  councillor  to  call  in  the  aid  of  the  United 
Brethren,  with  whose  self-denial  and  patient  endurance  he 
was  already  acquainted  ;  and  he  prevailed  upon  fourteen  of 
them  to  settle  amongst  the  negroes  whom  he  placed  upon 
the  island.  During  forty  years  it  had  lain  fallow,  produc- 
ing rank  luxuriant  vegetation  and  poisonous  underwood. 
In  the  first  year,  ten  of  the  Brethren,  —  so  it  was  ordered 
in  the  Divine  government,  —  laid  their  bones  in  the  soil  of 
that  inhospitable  island  ;  but  others  were  ready  to  take 
their  places,  and  the  work. of  God,  under  all  possible  diffi- 
culties, continued  to  flourish.  He  did  not  attribute  all  the 
prosperity  which  had  attended  the  colony  to  the  mission- 
aries ;  it  was  not  altogether  the  effect  of  their  labors,  but 
it  was  intimately  connected  with  them.  It  was  objected 
by  may  who  misunderstood  the  character  of  missionary 
labor,  that  they  went  among  the  heathen  to  Christianize 
them  before  they  civilized  them.  "  Our  brethren,"  he  con- 
tinued, "  go  with  the  gospel  in  their  hands,  and  the  power 
of  the  gospel  in  their  hearts.  Their  system  is  aggressive. 
They  do  not  begin  with  the  young,  or  with  the  middle- 
aged,  or  with  those  who  are  verging  towards  the  close  of 
life  ;  they  preach  to  old  and  young  the  simple  testimony 
which  converted  the  first  Greenlander,  and  which  in  every 
place  where  the  Brethren  have  carried  the  gospel,  has 
been   the  means  of  conversion  ;    they  simply,  faithfully, 


340  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

and  fervently  preach  Christ  crucified,  which  proves  itself 
to  be  the  power  of  God  and  the  wisdom  of  God  unto 
salvation." 

A  few  days  after,  a  public  breakfast  was  given  at  the 
Black  Bull  Inn,  in  honor  of  the  venerable  poet,  where  a 
hundred  gentlemen  assembled  to  mingle  in  the  social  en- 
joyments of  the  occasion. 

Their  guest,  verging  to  three-score  years  and  ten,  and 
meeting  the  company  in  the  three-fold  character  of  coun- 
trymen, friends,  and  Christians,  seemed  thrilled  with  tender 
and  serious  emotions. 

Briefly  rehearsing  the  leading  incidents  of  his  life  since 
leaving  Scotland  at  four  years  and  a  half  old,  and  express- 
ing his  strong  attachment  to  Britain,  as  bound  to  her  by  a 
three-fold  cord,  having  had  a  home  in  each  of  her  three 
principalities,  he  declared  he  could  in  no  way  better  express 
his  feelings  than  in  the  language  of  a  poem  written  twenty- 
five  years  before,  "  I  love  thee,  O  my  native  isle,"  which 
he  read  with  the  earnest  and  simple  utterance  which  marks 
true  feeling. 

On  his  arrival  at  Irvine,  his  native  town,  the  Provost, 
magistrates,  and  council  met  him  at  the  station,  and  having 
conducted  him  to  the  hall,  made  him  a  burgess  of  that 
ancient  and  royal  burgh.  The  heart  of  all  Irvine  seemed 
moved  on  the  occasion,  and  old  and  young,  rich  and  poor, 
"  lads  running  barefoot  and  lasses  glowing  with  pleasure," 
came  forth  to  welcome  the  poet  to  his  birth-place. 

Dressed  in  a  plain  suit  of  black,  his  ample  shirt-ruffles 
and  locks  of  snowy  whiteness  bespeak  an  age  gone  by, 
while  the  unwrinkled  cheek  and  clear-speaking  countenance 
disclose  a  fresh  and  unworn  spirit  within.  With  no  ordi- 
nary interest  did  he  seek  his  cottage  home,  gaze  upon  the 
landscapes  that  smiled  upon  his  childhood,  and  receive  the 


RECEPTION   AT   EDINBURGH.  341 

honest  grip  of  an  old  Scottish  grand-dame,  who  dandled 
him  upon  her  knee  in  infancy  and  smoothed  the  pillow  of 
his  dying  sister,  and  whose  rehearsal  of  his  nursery  days 
filled  him  with  a  strange  and  sad  delight. 

Services  were  held  to  promote  the  special  object  of  the 
visit,  and  a  public  breakfast  was  given  in  honor  of  their 
revered  guest. 

During  the  visit,  he  was  told  that  the  archives  of  the 
town  contained  a  manuscript  copy  of  one  of  Burns's  poems, 
and  that  a  similar  memorial  of  his  genius  would  be  highly 
prized. 

On  his  return,  finding  among  his  papers  the  original  copy 
of  The  World  before  the  Flood,  written  in  1813,  he  sent 
it  to  the  authorities  of  his  native  town,  accompanied  by 
a  handsome  edition  of  his  poems,  just  issued  at  London. 

The  deputation  visited  Paisley,  Greenock,  Stirling,  Perth, 
Dundee,  and  many  places  of  historic  interest,  when  we 
enter  Edinburgh  with  them,  where  they  were  received 
with  the  same  lively  interest  which  marked  their  recep- 
tion elsewhere.  Gentlemen  of  all  parties  came  forward 
to  welcome  Montgomery,  and  do  honor  to  his  genius. 

"It  is  refreshing,"  said  Dr.  Huie,  at  a  public  breakfast, 
"to  see  amongst  us  that  venerable  bard,  on  whose  writ- 
ings we  have  so  often  dwelt  with  admiration  and  delight ; 
whether  we  wandered  with  him  over  the  mountain  soli- 
tudes of  Switzerland,  or  visited  with  him  the  tornado- 
rocked  dwellings  of  the  West  Indies,  the  ice-bound  coasts 
of  Greenland,  or  the  enchanting  scenery  of  the  Pelican 
Island ;  or  whether,  surrendering  our  imaginations  more 
completely  to  his  guidance,  we  permitted  him  to  carry  us 
back  through  the  vista  of  departed  ages  to  the  World  be- 
fore the  Flood.  It  is  no  small  praise,  sir,  to  say  of  an  un- 
inspired writer,  that  the  pleasure  which  we  derive  from 
29* 


342  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

his  works  is  pure  and  unmingled ;  and  yet  such  is  the  case 
with  the  poems  of  our  friend,  Mr.  Montgomery.  Brightly 
though  the  cup  of  his  fancy  sparkles,  there  is  no  poison  in 
the  chalice ;  sweet  though  the  flowers  be  which  he  scatters 
around  us,  there  is  no  serpent  underneath  to  sting  the 
hand  that  gathers  them.  But  high  though  this  praise  is, 
our  honored  guest  deserves  a  higher  still.  He  has  tuned 
his  lyre  to  the  loftiest  theme  which  can  engage  the  mind 
or  the  imagination  of  man ;  he  has  sung  in  hallowed  strains 
the  triumphs  of  incarnate  Deity ;  and  he  has  supplied  us 
with  befitting  language  in  which  to  express  our  devotional 
feelings,  in  almost  every  conceivable  variety  of  circum- 
stances. I  believe,  sir,  that  there  is  no  one  here  who  has 
not  felt  and  acknowledged  this  —  whether  in  teaching  the 
lisping  babe  upon  his  knee  that 

"  '  Prayer  is  the  simplest  form  of  speech 
That  infant  lips  can  try ; ' 

or  whether,  looking  forward,  in  an  hour  of  grief  and  deso- 
lation, to  the  last  resting-place  of  the  mourner,  he  has  re- 
joiced to  think  that 

"  l  There  is  a  calm  for  those  that  weep, 
A  rest  for  weary  pilgrims  found ; 
They  softly  lie  and  sweetly  sleep 
Low  in  the  ground ; ' 

or  whether,  rising  on  imagination's  wing,  he  has  soared 
to  the  third  heaven,  and,  overpowered  by  the  flood  of 
glory  which  has  there  burst  upon  him,  has  exclaimed,  in 
tones  of  rapture  — 

"  '  What  are  these  in  bright  array  ? 
This  innumerable  throng? 
Round  the  altar,  night  and  day, 
Tuning  their  triumphal  song  ?  ' 


SUCCESS    OF    HIS   JOURNEY.  343 

It  is  not  only  as  a  poet,  then,  but  as  a  Christian  poet  —  and 
not  as  a  Christian  poet  merely,  but  as  the  first  Christian 
poet  of  the  day  —  the  Cowper,  as  he  has  been  well  termed, 
of  the  nineteenth  century — that,  in  the  name  of  this  meet- 
ing and  of  my  fellow-citizens,  I  bid  Mr.  Montgomery  wel- 
come, thrice  welcome,  to  Edinburgh  ;  and  express  a  hope, 
that  although  this  be  his  first,  it  will  not  be  his  last  visit  to 
the  metropolis  of  his  native  land.  But,  Sir,  I  must  not 
forget  that  we  are  met  here  for  a  higher  and  a  holier  pur- 
pose than  to  render  honor  to  man  for  what  the  grace  and 
the  Spirit  of  God  have  enabled  him  to  do." 

The  highest  respect  which  could  be  rendered  to  the  poet 
was  service  done  to  the  cause  which  brought  him  to  Scot- 
land, and  whose  advocacy  he  ever  made  prominent  over  all 
things  else.  The  charms  of  those  literary  circles  which 
adorn  her  metropolis,  the  almost  classic  records  of  her  soil, 
and  the  distinguished  courtesies  everywhere  proffered  him, 
could  never  divert  his  mind  from  the  direct  object  of  his 
journey  as  "  a  messenger  from  the  United  Brethren." 
Personal  distinctions,  not  undervalued  or  lightly  esteemed, 
met  the  child  of  the  Christian  missionary,  and  the  poet 
and  advocate  of  Christian  missions,  to  do  him  honor,  but 
they  were  offerings  which  he  devoutly  laid  upon  the  altar 
of  the  Redeemer  of  the  world. 

After  a  month's  sojourn,  the  deputation  left  the  genuine 
hospitalities  of  their  Scottish  Christian  friends  with  six 
hundred  pounds  for  the  missionary  treasury,  and  a  gain  of 
prayerful  interest  to  the  cause  which  no  money  could 
measure. 

Dr.  Huie,  whose  hospitable  mansion  in  George-square 
was  the  poet's  home  while  at  Edinburgh,  tells  us,  with  a 
fire-side  unreserve,  of  his  visit  there : 

"  His  frank,  yet  gentle  and  unassuming  manners,  made 


344  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

him  a  great  favorite  with  my  young  people,  who  showed 
their  regard  for  him  in  every  possible  way,  leaving  in  his 
apartment  so  many  little  tokens  of  friendship,  that  he  one 
day  said  to  me  in  their  presence  :  '  Dr.  Hide,  I  think  there 
must  be  fairies  in  your  house,  for  I  find  so  many  fairy  gifts 
in  my  room,  that  I  cannot  conceive  where  they  come  from, 
unless  they  bring  them.'  But  his  warm  and  benevolent 
heart  appeared  especially  attracted  toward  my  youngest 
son  David,  then  just  eight  years  of  age.  Him  he  always 
addressed  in  kind  and  paternal  accents,  and  spoke  of  him 
in  his  absence,  and  mentioned  him  in  the  precious  letters 
which  I  received  from  him  after  his  return  to  Sheffield,  in 
a  strain  of  marked  affection.  He  copied  for  him  on  a  card 
his  own  poetical  version  of  the  Lord's  Prayer,  adding  : — 

"  '  Thus,  as  the  Saviour  taught  to  say, 
May  little  David  learn  to  pray ! ' 

"  One  day,  too,  when  David  showed  him  a  copy  of  Mil- 
ton, which  he  had  received  as  a  prize  at  school,  he  took 
it  into  his  hand  and  said,  with  much  feeling,  '  Ah  !  David, 
what  would  I  have  given  at  your  age  for  such  a  book  as 
that ! ' 

"  The  Sunday  after  his  arrival,  he  enjoyed  the  privilege 
of  hearing  two  of  our  most  eminent  preachers,  and  after- 
wards spent  the  evening  in  interesting  and  edifying  con- 
versation with  my  family,  while  I  went  to  assist  in  taking 
up  the  collection  in  aid  of  the  Moravian  Missions,  which 
was  made  after  a  sermon  preached  by  Mr.  Latrobe,  in  the 
largest  of  our  city  churches.  On  every  day  during  the 
following  week,  except  Thursday,  I  invited  various  friends 
to  meet  him  at  breakfast,  distinguished  either  for  their 
celebrity  in  literature  or  science,  or  their  attachment  to 
the  cause  of  the  Moravian  Missions.     In  this  way,  or  by 


HIS    APPEARANCE    IN    COMPANY  345 

calling  with  me  at  their  own  houses,  he  made  the  acquaint- 
ance of  Professor  Wilson  ;  of  his  brother,  Mr.  James  Wil- 
son, the  eminent  naturalist ;  of  Mr.  Moir,  of  Musselburgh, 
better  known  as  the  '  Delta '  of  Blackwood's  Magazine ; 
of  Mr.  Steell,  the  sculptor ;  of  Dr.  Abercrombie,  Dr. 
Greville,  and  many  of  our  city  ministers  of  different 
denominations.  I  soon  found,  however,  that  Mr.  Mont- 
gomery did  not  shine  in  a  large  company ;  his  sensitive 
nature  shrinking  from  any  thing  like  display.  His  con- 
versation, therefore,  was  usually  confined  to  the  friends 
who  sat  on  either  side  of  him  ;  and  if  I  addressed  a  remark 
to  him  from  the  foot  of  the  table,  he  would  briefly  signify 
his  assent  to  it ;  or  if  it  were  calculated  to  draw  forth  some 
observation  from  him,  as  was  sometimes  intentionally  the 
case,  he  would  express  his  opinion  in  as  few  words  as  pos- 
sible, and  with  much  diffidence.  But  in  the  domestic 
circle,  where  none  excejrt  myself  and  family  were  present, 
he  gave  utterance  to  his  thoughts  and  feelings  without  the 
least  reserve,  and  his  conversation  was  of  a  rich  and  in- 
structive character.  Always  cheerful  himself,  he  diffused 
an  atmosphere  of  cheerfulness  around  him ;  but  never  did 
he  forget  the  Apostle's  injunction,  '  Let  your  speech  be  al- 
ways with  grace,  seasoned  with  salt.'  His  remarks  on  men 
and  things,  and  more  especially  on  the  literature  and  liter- 
ary men  of  the  day,  were  those  of  a  man  of  candor  and 
refinement,  a  Christian  and  a  gentleman ;  and  I  was  de- 
lighted to  find,  as  the  result  of  nine  days  of  unrestrained 
and  constant  interchange  of  thought  and  sentiment  with 
him,  that  his  published  works  were  as  truly  the  transcript 
of  the  feelings  and  conceptions  of  the  inner  man,  as  the 
hills  and  groves,  mirrored  in  the  glossy  lake,  are  the  reflec- 
tions of  the  landscape  which  surrounds  it. 

"  On  the  25th  of  October  my  venerable  friend  returned 


346  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

home,  and  we  continued  to  correspond  at  intervals  for  some 
years.  But  as  the  infirmities  of  age  advanced  upon  him, 
he  ceased  to  write  ;  although  he  never  missed  an  oppor- 
tunity of  sending  me  a  kind  message,  in  token  of  his  affec- 
tionate remembrance." 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

DEATH  OF  MR.  BENNETT  —  ROBBERY  AT   THE   MOUNT VISIT   TO    IRELAND 

—  DEATH  OF  SOUTHEY  —  NEW  POET-LAUREATE  —  VISIT  TO  BUXTON  — 
LECTURING  AT  LIVERPOOL  —  LETTER  TO  DR.  RAFFLES  —  PREMONITION 
OF  OLD  AGE  —  INNOVATIONS  —  WILLIAM  CULLEN  BRYANT' S  VISIT  — 
LONGFELLOW  —  POEM  TO  "  LILY  "  —  CORN-LAWS — LETTER  TO  HOLLAND 

—  HARTLEY  COLERIDGE. 

On  his  return  home,  Montgomery  wrote  Mr.  Bennett  on 
his  birth-day,  Nov.  4th,  1841  : 

"  To-day  I  am  three-score  years  and  ten  ;  how  I  have 
spent  them,  He  only  who  gave,  and  will  soon  call  to  ac- 
count, can  know.  The  newspapers  have  informed  you  of 
our  month  in  Scotland,  and  of  the  Christian  kindness 
shown  to  my  excellent  companion  and  myself  as  messen- 
gers of  our  poor  little  church.  I  need  to  watch  and  pray 
that  I  might  escape  harm,  even  from  all  the  good  which  a 
gracious  Providence  permitted  to  befall  me,  for  we  are 
tried  by  blessings  as  well  as  adversities." 

A  week  scarcely  elapsed,  before  tidings  of  the  sudden 
death  of  this  highly  valued  and  truly  beloved  friend  reached 
The  Mount.     It  was  a  heavy  stroke  to  Montgomery. 

"Ah,"  he  wrote,  in  the  closing  lines  of  a  little  poem, 
after  rallying  from  the  shock, 

"  When  some  long  comfort  ends, 


And  Nature  would  despair, 
Faith  to  the  heaven  of  heavens  ascends, 
And  meets  ten  thousand  there : 


348  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

First  faint  and  small,  then  clear  and  bright, 

They  gladden  all  the  gloom, 
As  stars  that  seem  but  points  of  light 

The  rank  of  suns  assume." 

Mr.  Bennett  died  in  a  fit,  on  the  road  between  London 
and  Hackney,  in  the  68th  year  of  his  age.  A  monument 
was  erected  to  his  memory  in  the  cemetery  of  Sheffield, 
with  appropriate  inscriptions,  by  his  bereaved  friend. 

An  occurrence  of  lesser  note,  rudely  jarred  npon  the 
tranquillity  of  The  Mount ;  the  robbery  of  the  house  one 
Sabbath  evening,  during  the  absence  of  its  master  and 
Miss  Gales  at  a  religious  service.  Among  the  plunder, 
which  mainly  consisted  of  money  and  plate,  the  robbers 
helped  themselves  to  the  massive  inkstand,  presented  to 
the  poet  some  years  before  by  the  ladies  of  Sheffield :  in- 
deed, most  of  the  loss  was  such  as  money  could  not 
replace;  but  the  most  painful  circumstance  of  all  was  a 
strong  probability  that  "  perfidy,  rather  than  violence  did 
the  deed,"  the  servant  girl  having  herself  introduced  the 
thieves,  and  then  suffered  herself  to  be  tied  up  in  the 
cellar,  to  elude  suspicion  and  excite  the  compassion  of  her 
employers. 

The  matter  was  never  prosecuted,  nor  were  any  of  the 
stolen  articles  ever  recovered ;  the  touching  story  of  the 
inkstand  having  been  returned  by  the  penitent  thief,  we 
are  sorry  to  find,  is  not  "  founded  on  fact." 

In  the  latter  part  of  1842,  Montgomery  was  solicited  to 
undertake,  with  Mr.  Latrobe,  a  tour  in  Ireland,  similar  to 
that  made  in  Scotland.  The  feeble  state  of  his  health 
made  him  hesitate  to  start  on  a  journey  involving  so  much 
labor.  In  view  however  of  the  urgency  of  the  case,  he 
rallied  his  strength,  and  left  Sheffield  early  in  December. 


DEATH    OF    THE    POET-LAUREATE.  349 

Ireland  was  not  remiss  in  her  reception  of  the  Christian 
poet. 

Greetings  like  those  in  Scotland  met  him  at  the  capital. 
But  waiving  all  personal  considerations,  and  anxious  to 
bestow  his  failing  strength  upon  the  cause  which  he  came 
to  present,  "I  come,"  he  said,  'to  those  who  would  do 
him  homage,'  "  only  in  one  character,  and  that  an  exceed- 
ingly simple  one,  as  a  member  of  the  Church  of  the  United 
Brethren,  and  in  that  character  as  a  brother  to  every  Chris- 
tian throughout  the  land.  I  come  before  you  as  a  little 
child,  pleading  for  help  to  carry  forward  our  missionary 
work,  and  to  bear  that  blessed  burden  which  it  has  pleased 
God  to  lay  upon  us."     . 

And  in  this  character,  the  deputation  were  received  and 
aided  with  a  love  and  liberality  which  did  honor  to  the 
Irish  heart. 

On  the  21st  of  March,  1843,  the  bard  of  Keswick 
breathed  his  last: — a  palace  in  ruins  he  had  long  been. 
The  over-tasked  student  sat  at  last  a  stranger  in  his  own 
work-shop,  his  mind  gone,  or  only  faintly  flickering  over 
the  well-read  treasures  of  his  ample  library. 

At  the  time  of  his  death,  he  was  the  poet-laureate,  and 
who  would  succeed  to  the  vacated  honor,  was  a  question 
speedily  asked  by  the  inquisitive  and  suggestive  press. 

"Wordsworth,  Campbell,  Moore,  and  our  own  Mont- 
gomery, appear  to  be  the  only  names  which  we  can  men- 
tion in  this  connection,"  answers  a  Sheffield  paper.  "  Upon 
the  last  of  these,  as  pre-eminently  the  '  Christian  Poet'  of 
his  country,  the  honor  of  successorship  to  his  late  respected 
friend  would  descend  with  a  grace  and  propriety  which, 
we  doubt  not,  would  be  highly  approved  by  the  good  and 
the  wise  of  all  parties." 

"  I  perceive  you  would  make  me  poet-laureate  if  you 
.30 


350  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

were  king,"  said  the  poet,  on  meeting  the  editor  the  next 
morning ;  "  I  think  I  could  guess  who  will  be,  but  his  name 
is  not  on  your  list." 

Milman  was  the  person  alluded  to,  though  Montgomery 
thought  him  less  qualified  for  the  discharge  of  its  duties 
than  likely  to  get  it. 

A  conversation  following  upon  the  manner  in  which 
the  office  had  been  filled  in  modern  times,  "  some  people 
thought,"  said  Montgomery,  "  that  Southey  was  too  much 
under  the  influence  of  his  'Thalabas,'  'Kehamas,'  and 
'Madocs,'  to  be  a  popular  English  poet-laureate — but  he 
deserves  credit  for  having  rescued  the  office  from  that 
degradation  into  which  it  had  sunk  during  the  incum- 
bency of  his  immediate  predecessors,  by  the  execution  of 
those  biennial  compositions,  which  were  formerly  set  to 
music  by  the  king's  composers." 

On  being  asked  what  he  thought  should  be  expected 
from  a  laureate  of  requisite  note  and  abilities  : — "  A  series 
of  grand  national  odes  on  grand  national  subjects,"  he 
replied,  "  of  which  we  do  not  possess  a  single  popular 
specimen  from  the  pen  of  a  poet-laureate.  They  should 
combine,  with  a  strong  historical  interest,  all  the  charms 
of  the  old  ballad  poetry." 

"Wordsworth  was  the  favored  individual ;  and  in  a  letter 
of  reply  to  Montgomery's  congratulations,  a  few  months 
afterwards,  he  says : 

"I  am  truly  sensible  of  the  kindness  of  your  expressions 
upon  my  appointment  to  the  laureateship,  which  I  at  first 
refused  on  account  of  my  advanced  age.  But  it  was  after- 
wards pressed  upon  me  so  strongly  by  the  Lord  Chancellor, 
and  by  Sir  Robert  Peel  himself,  that  I  could  not  possibly 
persist  in  that  refusal ;  and  especially  as  her  Majesty's 
name  and  approval  were  again  referred  to ;  and  I  was  as- 


LETTER   TO    S  All  A II    GALES.  351 

sured  that  it  was  offered  me  solely  in  consideration  of  what 
I  had  already  done  in  literature,  and  without  the  least  view 
to  future  exertions,  as  connected  with  the  honor.  It  has 
since  gratified  me  to  learn  from  many  quarters,  as  you 
yourself  also  tell  me,  that  the  appointment  has  given  uni- 
versal satisfaction.  And  I  need  scarcely  add,  that  it  has 
afforded  me  a  melcmcholy  pleasure  to  be  thought  worthy 
of  succeeding  my  revered  friend." 

Friend  after  friend  departing,  was  not  the  only  token  of 
a  long  life  waning.  The  infirmities  of  age  began  to  creep 
upon  him.  His  over-coat  slid  on  less  easily  ;  and  his  fingers 
grew  stiff,  making  writing  difficult  and  painful. 

"  There  is  as  much  music  as  ever  in  the  instrument,"  he 
said  cheerily,  "  but  the  hand  has  not  powrer  over  the  bow, 
and  cannot  call  the  spirit  out." 

In  the  autumn  he  went  to  Buxton  to  try  the  effect  of 
bathing  for  numbness  in  his  right  hand,  which,  he  feared 
was  about  "  to  lose  its  cunning." 

Playfully  he  reports  himself  to  his  companion  at  home, 
Sarah  Gales : 

"Buxton,  Sept.  1,  1843. 
"  My  Dear  Sarah, 

"  For  once  at  least  I  am  determined  to  send  you  a 
downright  dull  matter-of-fact  letter,  having  no  spirit  even 
to  write  nonsense,  —  unless  I  cannot  help  it.  After  parting 
with  you  for  the  five-hundredth  time  (if  my  reckoning  be 
right),  since  wre  first  met,  I  reached  the  Tontine  in  safety, 
and  got  into  the  Buxton  coach.  The  morning  was  dismal 
without,  and  not  very  bright  within  that  part  of  me  where 
I  live,  —  that  is  where  I  think  and  feel ;  for  the  rest  of  my 
clay  tenement  is  to  me  but  as  the  unoccupied  rooms  in  our 
old  house  in  the  Hartshead,  only  visited  occasionally  when 


352  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

special  necessity  requires.  This  is  a  '  matter  -of  fact,' 
though  a  mystery,  and  therefore  not  quite  irrelevant  to  the 
theme  of  this  letter.  I  arrived  here  on  Tuesday :  my 
coach  companions  were  two  of  i  the  better  sex,'  both 
mothers,  and  one,  to  my  inexpressible  dismay,  had  a  baby 
in  her  arms.  I  have  often  said  that,  when  '  I  am  King,'  — 
that  is,  when  I  am  '  King,  Lords,  and  Commons,  and  all ' 
(for  less  authority  could  not  do  it,  even  if  that  could),  I 
will  make  a  law  to  prohibit,  under  severe  penalties,  any 
woman,  old  or  young,  so  incumbered,  from  taking  an  inside 
place  in  a  coach,  to  the  annoyance  of  bachelors  like  me. 
In  justice,  however,  to  this  baby,  I  must  say  it  was  the 
best  fellow-traveller  of  the  size  that  it  was  my  fate  ever  to 
be  thus  pinfolded  with,  in  all  my  adventures :  it  never 
cried,  nor  kicked,  nor  committed  any  of  those  nameless 
little  offences  which  are  the  besetting  infirmities  of  such 
little  innocents.  The  worst  thing,  therefore,  that  I  wish 
may  ever  befall  it  is,  that,  as  it  was  the  best  baby  that  ever 
was  born  —  every  mother  having  had  that  baby  —  it  may 
grow  up  to  be  the  best  man  or  woman  —  and  so  I  have 
done  with  it,  and  turn  to  less  important,  or,  in  lady's 
phrase,  less  interesting  matters.  [Then  follow  particulars 
about  lodging,  living,  bathing,  &e.]  I  have  taken  three 
hot  baths  here,  but  not  ventured  to  plunge  into  the  natu- 
rally tepid  ones,  which  are  the  miracle-working  waters  of 
Buxton.  Every  day  I  have  got  abroad,  and  exercise  my- 
self from  head  to  foot  with  climbing  the  hills,  walking 
through  the  plantations,  or  rambling  down  the  dales  .  .  . 
If  I  should  make  a  digression  to  Ockbrook,  instead  of  pre- 
senting myself  at  The  Mount,  I  shall  write  a  line  to  inform 
you  ;  meanwhile,  my  dear  Sarah,  do  not  be  uneasy  about 
me :  be  assured  that  I  shall  take  as  good  care  of  myself,  as 
though  I  were  ten  times  more  precious  than  I  am,  or  than 


LETTER   TO    DR.    RAFFLES.  353 

I  deserve  to  be  ;  and  yet  I  am,  with  my  heart's  best  affec- 
tions, and  most  earnest  prayers  for  your  present,  future, 
and  everlasting  welfare,  your  faithful  and  most  grateful 
friend,  for  kindnesses  which  I  appreciate,  but  can  never 
repay." 

In  spite  of  infirmities,  the  next  year  we  find  him  at 
Liverpool,  lecturing  upon  the  poets,  but  he  was  compelled 
to  decline  all  visiting,  feeling  his  need  of  the  restoring 
power  of  rest  after  the  exertion  of  his  public  efforts.  He 
thus  writes  Dr.  Raffles  of  that  city  after  his  return  : 

"  Sheffield,  September  10,  1844. 
"  My  Dear  Friend, 

"  Pray  permit  me  still  to  call  you  so,  though  during 
my  late  sojourn  in  Liverpool,  by  the  help  of  bad  manage- 
ment, I  failed,  time  after  time,  in  my  purposes  to  make  you 
a  personal  visit,  and  spend  an  hour  with  you,  on  living  over 
again  the  days  and  weeks  of  former  years,  when,  as  your 
guest,  I  had  the  privilege  to  enjoy,  in  company  with  our 
late  friend  George  Bennett,  some  of  the  pleasantest,  and 
not  the  least  profitable  hours  of  Christian  society  that  I 
ever  remember.  Twice  I  adventured  through  the  sea  of 
Liverpool  —  for  to  me  the  town  with  its  high  ways  and 
bye- ways  was  as  pathless  and  bewildering  as  the  great  deep 
itself —  towards  your  chapel ;  and  by  inquiring  at  every 
corner  or  open  door,  I  reached  the  spot  in  safety.  On  the 
first  occasion  you  were  absent,  but  your  pulpit  was  well  oc- 
cupied by  good  Dr.  Urwick  of  Dublin  (as  I  understood)  ; 
and  an  excellent  discourse  he  delivered.  I  was  both  awed 
and  affected  by  the  largeness  of  the  place,  and  the  multi- 
tude of  the  congregation  ;  but  yet  more  deeply  touched  on 

the  following  Sabbath  evening  to  find  that  the  congrega- 
30* 


354  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

tion  was  no  more  diminished  than  the  place,  when  you,  as 
the  ordinary  preacher,  were  on  duty.  I  confess  that, 
though  the  thought  was  overpowering,  I  rejoiced  to  find 
that  such  a  burthen  of  the  Lord  had  been  laid  upon  you, 
and  that  He  had  given,  and  continued  to  give  to  you, 
bodily  strength  and  mental  resources,  but  above  all,  His 
heavenly  grace,  and  His  Holy  Spirit,  to  bear  up  under 
such  l  a  weight  of  glory '  as  that  c  burthen '  must  be,  — 
standing  between  Him  and  so  many  souls,  as  the  one  who 
must  give  account.  This,  I  do  trust,  you  will  be  enabled 
to  render,  when  the  thousands  to  whom  you  have  min- 
istered shall  rise  up  to  call  you  blessed,  and  be  your  joy 
and  crown  of  rejoicing  in  the  day  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ 
.  .  .  I  close  this  letter  with  assuring  you  that,  with  sin- 
cere gratitude  for  many  kindnesses  at  your  hands  in  years 
gone  by,  and  with  confirmed  esteem  and  respect,  I  am 
your  obliged  friend, 

"  J.  Montgomery." 

"  Ah,"  he  sadly  said  one  day  to  Mr.  Holland,  "  nothing 
can  prevent  us  from  growing  old." 

But  if  at  times  he  sighed  over  the  premonitions  of  decay, 
which  bade  him  husband  his  strength  for  accustomed  du- 
ties, and  withheld  him  from  the  new  and  numerous  calls  of 
the  new  era  dawning  upon  him,  he  did  not  look  with  dis- 
trust upon  improvements,  or  discern  more  evil  than  good 
in  these  later  days. 

Innovations  were  never  scare-crows  to  his  wide  and  dis- 
cerning mind. 

Speaking  of  Wordsworth's  sonnet  deprecating  the  pro- 
jected Kendal  and  Windemere  Railway: — "Poetically,  the 
lines  are  not  unworthy  of  their  author,"  he  said ;  "  but 
practically,  I  think  he  is  wrong.     I  should  have  no  more 


BURLESQUE    FROM    "PUNCH."  355 

objection  to  it,  than  to  the  small  steamer,  '  Lady  of  the 
Lake,'  which  now  actually  plies  on  Windemere  itself." 

"  Punch,"  remarked  his  friend,  "  represents  the  laureate 
as  exclaiming,  at  the  unwelcome  sight  of  such  an  object  in 
such  a  place : 

"  What  incubus,  my  goodness !  have  we  here, 
Cumbering  the  bosom  of  our  lovely  lake? 
A  steam-boat,  as  I  live !  —  without  mistake  ! 
Puffing  and  splashing  over  Windemere  1 
What  inharmonious  shouts  assail  mine  ear  ? 
Shocking  poor  Echo,  that  perforce  replies,  — 
1  Ease  her  I '  and  '  stop  her ! '  —  frightful  horrid  cries, 
Mingling  with  frequent  pop  of  ginger  beer." 

.  He  laughed,  and  enjoyed  the  quotation,  saying,  "  I  must 
confess  I  always  watch  the  progress  of  a  steamer  or  of  a 
railway  train  with  pleasure,  even  amidst  the  finest  of  our 
home  scenery  at  least ;  and  I  was  particularly  pleased  the 
other  day,  with  observing  the  transit  of  an  engine  and 
train  of  carriages  along  the  bank  side  of  the  River  Don, 
and  through  the  graceful  skirts  of  Wharncliffe  Wood." 

"  In  truth  I  am  relinquishing,"  he  writes  to  a  friend, 
"  all  my  former  active  exertions  in  public  affairs,  holding 
my  tongue  in  meetings,  and  refraining  from  engagements 
in  private  company,  lest  I  should  be  drawn  out  in  excite- 
ment or  sink  into  apathy." 

A  hard,  if  wholesome  economy,  we  think,  still  leaping 
with  the  warm  pulses  of  a  heart  unworn,  that  rallies 

:  the  fortitude 


And  circumspection  needful  to  preserve 
Its  present  blessings,  and  to  husband  up 
The  respite  of  the  season." 


356  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

It  was  on  a  bright  June  morning  of  1844,  that  our  own 
poet,  Bryant,  paid  a  visit  to  The  Mount  to  see  one,  "  whose 
name,"  he  said,  "  he  had  long  honored,  and  of  the  admir- 
ation of  whom  he  had  given  evidence  by  committing  to 
memory  when  young  the  whole  of  The  Wanderer  of  Swit- 
zerland." 

The  quiet  and  unaffected  manners  of  his  American  guest 
charmed  Montgomery,  and  he  felt  at  home  with  him  im- 
mediately. 

"  I  am  anxious,"  said  he,  in  the  course  of  conversation, 
"  to  see  your  poets  give  to  their  works  an  impression  of 
native  originality,  more  of  an  interest  derived  from  the  pe- 
culiar character  of  their  country,  and  imitate  less  those  of 
our  own  —  on  this  account  I  have  been  much  pleased  with 
Longfellow." 

Of  Bryant  himself  this  is  a  marked  excellence,  whose 
descriptive  writings  are  essentially  American,  and  the 
graphic  felicity  of  whose  details  transport  us  to  all  the 
brilliant  peculiarities  of  our  forest  scenery. 

On  Montgomery  playfully  remarking,  "  You  pirate  our 
books  so  in  your  country,  sometimes  reprinting  a  whole 
volume  in  a  newspaper,"  Bryant  rejoined :  "  And  you  cer- 
tainly return  the  compliment ;  I  say  nothing  of  Longfel- 
low's poems,  which  you  have  named ;  but  my  own  have 
all  been  reprinted  here,  without  either  consultation  or 
concurrence  on  my  part;  and  I  was  surprised,  when  in 
London  the  other  day,  to  have  put  into  my  hand  a  me- 
tropolitan impression  of  a  few  pieces  which  I  published 
only  just  before  I  left  home  to  complete  a  volume.  The 
English  printer  seems  to  have  thought  them  equally  de- 
sirable to  perfect  his  surreptitious  edition." 

Longfellow  seems  to  have  been  a  favorite  with  the  Shef- 
field poet. 


"THE   VILLAGE   BLACKSMITH."  357 

"  The  Village  Blacksmith  "  delighted  him.  "  It  is  real 
poetry,"  he  exclaimed  on  reading  the  little  poem;  "the 
inspiration  of  a  happy  moment ;  and  not  mere  rhymes  got 
up  on  a  selected  subject,  to  show  the  author's  skill :  they 
will  form  a  beautiful  pendant  to  Shakspeare's  graphic  and 
well-known  description  of  a  smith.  How  happily  has  the 
poet  described  the  burning  toil  of  the  worthy  man  ;  and 
even  my  own  wandering  curiosity,  when,  as  a  Fulneck 
school-boy,  I  used  to  peep  into  old  John  Oddy's  smithy 
at  Tonge : 

"  Week  in  —  week  out  —  from  morn  till  night 

You  can  hear  his  bellows  blow ; 
You  can  hear  him  swing  his  heavy  sledge, 

With  measured  beat,  and  slow  .... 
And  children  coming  home  from  school, 

Look  in  at  the  open  door  ; 
They  love  to  see  the  flaming  forge, 

And  hear  the  bellows  roar, 
And  catch  the  burning  sparks  that  fly 

Like  chaff  from  a  threshing  floor." 

And  then  the  moral  built  upon  the  blacksmith's  "  some- 
thing attempted  —  something  done : " 

"  Thus  at  the  flaming  forge  of  life, 
Our  fortunes  must  be  wrought ; 
Thus  on  its  sounding  anvil  shaped 
Each  burning  deed  and  thought  I  " 

But,  ah,  the  flames  of  his  forge  were  burning  dimmer 
and  dimmer : 

"  I  have,"  said  Montgomery,  "  posted  to-day,  for  a  gentle- 
man at  Bath,  a  little  poem,  which  I  have  had  in  hand  ever 
since  January,  on  the  Grasshojtyer  /  a  subject  proposed  by 


358  LIFE   OF   MONTGOMERY. 

himself,  and  intended,  I  believe,  to  illustrate  some  state- 
ment or  other  in  a  book  on  grasses.  You  will  hardly 
believe  me  when  I  tell  you,  that  I  made  nine  or  ten  tran- 
scripts of  the  piece  before  I  could  fully  satisfy  myself  with 
it.  Such  a  trifle  would  not,  at  one  period,  have  cost  me 
so  much  labor ;  but  now,  literally  as  well  as  metaphorically, 
even  c  the  grasshopper  is  a  burden '  to  me." 

Lily,  a  little  pet  of  five  years,  the  grandchild  of  his  friend 
Samuel  Roberts,  having  suddenly  died,  the  poet  thus  ex- 
presses his  sympathy : 

"  Deeply  and  affectionately  sympathizing  with  you  and 
each  respectively  of  your  family,  sufferers  by  the  late  be- 
reavement, I  can  only  add,  that,  though  the  delight  of  your 
eyes  has  been  taken  away  with  a  stroke,  the  desire  of  your 
hearts,  —  their  treasure,  for  so  brief  a  time  in  possession,  — 
is,  I  verily  believe,  where  all  your  treasures  ought  to  be  — 
in  heaven,  and  whither  to  the  end  may  every  one  among 
your  number  seek  it  individually,  and  find  it  for  ever  ;  since 
there  it  cannot  be  lost,  and  there  its  true  value  can  alone 
be  known,  as  the  purchase  of  the  precious  blood  of  Jesus 
Christ  —  the  richest  ransom  which  eternal  love  itself  could 
pay." 

The  following  lines  were  enclosed  : 

"  In  Memory  of  E.  C.  B.  (Lily),  who  died  aged  five  years. 

"  She  was  a  spirit,  sent 

On  earth  a  little  while ; 
She  came  among  us,  peeped,  and  went 

Away  like  her  own  smile  ; 
That  smile,  which  oft,  with  childhood's  grace, 
Showed  us  heaven's  image  in  her  face, 
The  mirror  of  a  soul,  from  whence 
Sin  had  not  banished  innocence. 


OPINION    OF    CORN    LAWS.  359 

"  She  was  a  jewel  rare, 

Precious  beyond  all  price ; 
Not  lost,  as  worldly  treasures  are, 

But  lodged  in  Paradise ; 
Where,  at  the  rising  of  the  just, 
We  pray,  we  hope,  we  humbly  trust 
To  see  her  shine,  a  glorious  gem 
In  the  Redeemer's  diadem. 

"  She  was  a  love-knot,  tied 

By  Heavenly  Love's  own  hand, 
To  hold,  what  death  could  not  divide, 

In  one  united  hand, 
The  cords  of  many  a  gentle  heart, 
Which  parting  only  seem'd  to  part, 
For  Lily  cannot  cease  to  be 
Our  love-knot  in  eternity. 


«  J.  M. 


"The  Mount,  June,  1845," 


Towards  the  end  of  December,  great  public  anxiety  was 
manifested  in  consequence  of  the  sudden  breaking  up  of 
Sir  Robert  Peel's  government ;  and  the  attempt,  ultimately 
unsuccessful  on  the  part  of  Lord  John  Russell,  to  form  an 
administration  on  the  basis  of  a  coalition  of  parties  favor- 
able to  an  immediate  abolition  of  the  Corn  Laws.  This 
crisis  of  the  Cabinet  was  rendered  still  more  interesting  by 
the  unexpected  demise  of  Lord  Wharncliffe,  at  this  time 
President  of  the  Privy  Council.  In  these  occurrences 
Montgomery  seemingly  evinced  a  more  lively  concern 
than  he  had  latterly  been  wont  to  take  in  political  move- 
ments. 

"  I  have  been  thinking,"  he  said,  "  about  the  Corn  Laws : 
I  am,  perhaps,  not  a  competent,  though  I  am  certainly  a 
disinterested  judge  in  the  question,  and  I  must  confess  I 


360  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

can  neither  perceive  in  what  way  they  must  needs  be  so 
mischievous  as  they  are  said  to  be,  nor  how  their  abolition 
will  certainly  lead  to  all  those  great  national  benefits  that 
some  persons  appear  to  anticipate  ;  but  stronger  heads  and 
sterner  wills  than  mine  will  determine  the  issue.  I  only 
wish  the  conflict  was  well  over."  He  had,  a  few  days  pre* 
viously,  rated  Mr.  Holland  for  not  going  to  hear  Mr. 
Cobden  speak  at  the  Cutler's  Hall.  "  I  should  have  gone 
to  hear  myself,"  said  the  poet,  "  if  I  could  have  been  in- 
visible, or  allowed  to  make  one  of  the  crowd ;  but  I  did 
not  like  to  encounter  the  risk  of  being  invited  to  take  a 
seat  on  the  platform." 

In  the  autumn  of  1846,  with  Miss  Gales,  he  projected  a 
jaunt  to  Harrogate. 

"  I  am  glad  you  are  going,"  said  a  friend ;  "  these  autumn 
days  are  so  fine." 

"  Aye,"  answered  the  poet,  in  a  tone  of  sadness,  "  they 
may  be  so  to  young  men,  who  talk  of  those  pensive  sensa- 
tions which  old  men  feel.'''' 

"  It  was  a  kind  of  triumph  once,"  is  his  monody,  — 

"  to  see 


"  All  nature  die,  and  find  myself  at  ease, 
In  youth,  that  seemed  an  immortality  : 
But  I  am  changed  now,  and  feel  with  trees 
A  brotherhood,  and  in  their  obsequies 
Think  of  my  own." 

From  Harrogate,  Sept.  18th,  1846,  he  writes  to  his 
friend,  John  Holland,  as  follows  : 

"  I  ought  to  have  written  to  you  sooner,  though  there 
being  no  high  pressure  upon  my  conscience,  I  have  as  usual 
deferred  the  obligation  to  the  last  hour.  .  .  .  Miss 
Gales  and  I  arrived  here  safely  on  Tuesday  evening.     Mr. 


LETTER    TO   JOHN    HOLLAND.  3d 

Blackwell  met  us  on  our  alighting  at  tho  entrance  of  this 
multifarious  collection  of  all  manner  of  human  dwellings, 
where  there  are  fewer  homes  than  houses ;  the  latter,  in 
bulk  and  accommodations,  being  built  and  furnished  for 
pilgrims  and  sojourners  rather  than  for  the  resident  inhabit- 
ants. Yet  at  this  season  so  overflowing  is  the  tide  of  pop- 
ulation, that  on  our  arrival,  had  not  our  friend  Mr.  B.  been 
warned  of  our  coming,  we  might,  indeed,  have  found  room 
enough  on  High  Harrogate  Common  to  spread  our  gar- 
ments on  the  green  sward,  and  rested  on  our  mother's  lap, 
and  under  the  infinity  of  space,  where  all  the  host  of 
heaven  sleep  by  day  and  watch  by  night ;  for  no  narrower 
bed  or  lower  roof  might  have  been  accessible  to  afford  us 
shelter. 

"  Our  journey  wTas  pleasant  and  easy  ;  and  though  I,  of 
course,  had  forecast  in  my  melancholy  and  ever-misgiving 
mind  all  manner  of  petty  incidents  and  vexations  to  cross 
us  by  the  way,  —  laying  out  of  the  question  the  possible 
possibilities  of  explosions,  crashes,  dangers,  and  deaths, 
that  imperil  travellers  by  railway,  we  might,  undisturbed, 
have  slept  and  dreamt  most  marvellously  of  these  horrors, 
without  one  hair-breadth  'scape,  between  The  Mount  and 
Cornwall  House,  where  we  are  now  quartered,  and  which 
ought  to  be  called  '  The  Mount '  of  Harrogate,  being  on 
the  highest  point  yet  built  upon,  and  overlooking  all  below, 
at  a  safe  distance  from  the  smoke,  the  smells,  the  bustle, 
and  '  all  the  goings  on '  (Coleridge's  phrase)  of  human  life 
in  this  strange  place.  Strange,  surely,  it  is,  where  more  is 
seen,  and  heard,  and  done,  and  thought,  and  said,  and  suf- 
fered, and  all  the  rest  of  sublunary  things  —  more  of  these 
occur  and  pass  in  the  three  months  of  which  a  Harrogate 
year  consists  than  in  the  remaining  nine  in  common  places 

where  everything  is  common-place  from  the  first  of  January 
31 


362  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

to  the  last  of  December.  .  .  .  We  are  very  comfort 
ably  lodged  under  the  same  roof  with  Mr.  Blackwell's 
family,  having  our  separate  establishments,  but  being  very 
good  neighbors.  Miss  Gales,  with  her  kind  regards,  says, 
you  shall  be  very  welcome  if  you  will  visit  us  here,  and  we 
will  make  as  much  of  you  as  we  can.  Don't  forget  to  call 
at  The  Mount ;  and  any  letters  worth  sending,  forward  as 
soon  as  you  can.  I  have  neither  room  nor  time  to  say 
Farewell,  as  witness  the  word  itself." 

"  You  mention  honey,"  he  replies  to  a  female  friend, 
respecting  a  promised  gift,  "  and  very  considerately  offer  to 
send  me  some  if  I  like  it,  and  on  a  certain  condition.  I  do 
like  it,  and  consent  to  the  condition,  if  not  to  be  bound  by 
the  lettei*,  yet  to  keep  it  according  to  the  spirit.  '  What  is 
sweeter  than  honey  ?'  was  one  of  the  points  of  Samson's 
riddle.  One  of  the  Apocryphal  writers  (Eccles.  xi.  3) 
says,  beautifully,  '  The  bee  is  little  among  such  as  fly ;  but 
her  fruit  is  the  chief  of  sweet  tilings.'  On  higher  and 
holier  authority,  however,  I  find  that  there  is  indeed  some- 
thing on  earth,  even  sweeter  than  c  the  fruit '  of  the  bee, 
and  no  wonder,  for  it  came  down  from  heaven,  and.  is  yet 
more  delicious  than  that  i  angels'  food,'  the  manna  that  was 
sent  to  the  children  of  Israel  in  the  wilderness.  The  inspired 
Psalmist  says,  Ps.  xix.  —  see  verses  9,  10,  and  Ps.  cxix.  v. 
103  ;  and  you  know  that  these  things  are  so,  for  you  'have 
tasted  the  good  word  of  God ; '  and  may  you  ever  live 
thereby !  For  this,  may  I  too  hunger  and  thirst,  that  my 
soul  may  live  by  it  through  both  worlds  ;  for  it  is  the  seed 
of  eternal  life  when  sown  and  quickened  in  a  prepared 
heart.  I  have  only  to  add,  in  answer  to  your  kind  enquir- 
ies, that  new  maladies,  almost  necessarily  incurable  in  old 
bodies,  multiply  upon  me  with  years ;  and  I  must  be  thank- 
ful  for   comparative    exemption   from   very   painful   ones. 


SONNET    FROM   HARTLEY    COLERIDGE.        363 

An  internal  symptom  of  morbid  disease,  without  anything 
to  be  called  suffering,  is  my  latest  warning  of  a  decaying 
tabernacle." 

The  friends  returned  from  their  visit  to  Harrogate,  im- 
proved in  health  and  spirits. 

The  first  business  we  find  him  attending  to  is  the  disposal 
of  a  hundred  pounds,  given  him  by  Mr.  Roberts  for  the 
Moravian  Brethren,  fifty  of  which  he  bestowed  upon  their 
missions,  and  fifty  for  their  ministers'  fund.  This  gentle- 
man had  already  made  him  his  almoner  to  the  amount  of 
six  or  seven  hundred  pounds  for  similar  purposes  at  various 
times  —  tributes  of  personal  friendship,  as  well  as  proofs  of 
Christian  liberality. 

A  few  days  afterwards,  a  stranger  called  upon  the  poet, 
who  playfully  presented  the  following  epistle  of  introduc- 
tion from  his  friend : 

"  To  the  Poet  James  Montgomery. 

11  Poets  there  are,  whom  I  am  well  content 
Only  to  see  in  mirror  of  their  verse, 
Feeling  their  very  presence  might  disperse 
The  glorious  vision  which  their  lines  present ; 
But  never  could  my  shaping  wit  invent 
An  image  worthy  of  a  Christian  bard 
Such  as  thou  art  —  but  ever  would  discard 
Conceit  too  earthy  and  irreverent 

To  be  thy  likeness.     Therefore  I  regret 
The  fate,  or  fault,  or  whatsoe'er  it  be, 
Hath  made  thy  holy  lineament  as  yet 
A  vague  imagination  unto  me. 
I  more  should  love  and  better  understand 
Thy  verse,  could  I  but  hold  thee  by  the  hand. 

"  Hartley  Coleridge." 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

WILBERFORCE —  HOWITT'S  "  HOMES  AND  HAUNTS  OF  THE  POETS  "  — 
VISIT  TO  WATH  —  REMINISCENCES  OF  YOUTH  —  ROSCOE  CLUB  —  DEATH 
OF    FRIENDS. 

The  clergy  of  Sheffield  having  had  a  private  meeting  to 
consider  whether  anything  should  be  done  to  counteract 
the  spread  of  popery,  concluded  not  to  make  a  public 
demonstration,  but  to  hinder  the  growth  of  error  by  a 
more  diligent  sowing  of  the  truth. 

"  They  are  right,"  said  Montgomery ;  "  they  seem  to 
have  acted  on  the  plan  of  the  old  penknife  cutler,  who 
determined  that  he  would  go  to  bed  for  a  day,  in  order  to 
devise  new  patterns ;  but  his  faculty  of  invention  proving 
wholly  unproductive,  he  got  up,  resolved  to  do  nothing ; 
saying,  he  thought  the  old  patterns  were,  after  all,  the  best !" 

"  Have  you  read  the  Rev.  Henry  Wilberforce's  discourse 
on   Christian    unity  ?"  asked  a  friend. 

"  I  have  :  the  Protestant  clergyman  is  as  infallible,  in  his 
own  opinion,  as  the  Pope  himself,  and  far  less  reasonable : 
he  assumes,  indeed,  without  one  tittle  of  evidence,  or  even 
of  argument,  that  his  church  is  the  chukch  ;  and  then, 
with  as  much  dogmatical  gravity  as  the  Roman  pontiff 
could  arrogate,  he  declares  that  beyond  the  pale  of  his 
communion  there  is  no  salvation  :  with  equal  bigotry  does 
the  vicar  of  East  Farleigh  pronounce,  not  only  that  '  all 


"HOMES   AND    HAUNTS    OF    THE   POETS."       365 

dissent  is  sin,'  but  he  tells  us,  '  how  very  shocking  it  is, 
that  many  good  sort  of  people  think  nothing  of  coming  to 
church  on  the  Sunday  morning,  and  then  going  to  meeting 
in  the  evening.'  " 

The  preacher's  excellent  father  often  went  to  Mr.  Jay's 
chapel,  at  Bath,  as  well  as  to  other  dissenting  places  of 
worship ;  and  it  is  lamentable  to  find  his  sons  not  only 
shirking  facts  of  this  kind,  but  actually  repudiating,  by 
their  own  extravagant  sentiments  of  conduct,  the  evangel- 
ical catholicity  of  their  revered  father's  character. 

This  year,  also,  appeared  Howitt's  "  Homes  and  Haunts 
of  the  English  Poets,"  which  Montgomery  read  with  much 
interest. 

"  He  is  quite  alive  to  coincidences,"  remarked  the  poet, 
"  as  in  such  a  work  he  ought  to  be.  I  was  amused  with 
his  statement  to  the  effect  that  the  house  in  which  Moore 
was  born  is  now  a  whisky  shop  ;  that  Burns's  native  cot- 
tage is  a  public  house  ;  Shelley's  house  at  Great  Marlow,  a 
beer-shop  ;  the  spot  where  Scott  was  born  occupied  with  a 
building  used  for  a  similar  purpose  ;  and  even  Coleridge's 
residence  at  Nether-Stowey,  the  very  house  in  which  the 
poet  composed  that  sweet '  Ode  to  the  Nightingale,'  is  now 
an  ordinary  beer-house.  Had  his  visit  to  Sheffield  been 
only  a  few  months  later,  my  own  forty  years'  residence 
would  doubtless  have  been  added  to  this  list ;  for  as  Miss 
Gales  and  I  walked  up  the  Hartshead  the  other  day,  talk- 
ing of '  auld  lang  synej  and  not  forgetful  of  the  very  un- 
complimentary character  which  Mr.  Howitt  had  given  to 
that  locality,  what  was  our  consternation  to  perceive  that 
our  old  house  was  actually  converted  into  a  Tom-and- Jerry 
shop !  But  what  do  you  think  of  Mr.  Howitt's  discov- 
ery that  Wordsworth's  system,  which  so  long  puzzled  the 

reviewers,  is  a  system  of  poetical  Quakerism  ?     You  know 
3]* 


366  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

something  about  the  c  haunts  '  of  George  Fox  in  this  neio-h- 
borhood  ;  and  about  his  Journal,  which  I  never  saw ;  but 
which  I  believe  shows  him  to  have  been,  with  all  his  ex- 
travagance and  enthusiasm,  an  indefatigable,  as  well  as  a 
sincere,  laborer  and  sufferer  in  what  he  considered  to  be 
the  cause  of  evangelical  truth.  Now  my  surprise  and  re- 
gret has  always  been,  in  reference  to  some  of  the  most 
justly  celebrated  of  Wordsworth's  poems,  that  they  should 
be  so  entirely  devoid  of  all  allusion  to  spiritual  things,  as 
the  latter  are  disclosed  in  the  Scriptures  and  in  the  experi- 
ence of  real  Christians." 

"  In  the  month  of  April,  this  year,"  says  Mr.  Holland, 
"  the  whole  kingdom  was  agitated  with  discussions  relative 
to  the  effects  likely  to  be  produced  by  the  operation  of 
certain  plans  for  the  general  instruction  of  the  poor,  pro- 
pounded in  a  series  of  minutes  issued  by  the  Committee  of 
the  Council  on  Education,  under  the  sanction  of  Lord 
Lansdowne,  the  president.  The  Congregational  Dissenters, 
under  the  guidance  of  Mr.  Edward  Baines,  of  Leeds,  were 
almost  unanimous,  not  only  in  repudiating  the  proposed 
scheme,  but  in  denouncing  all  government  intervention  or 
aid  under  any  circumstances.  For  a  time  Montgomery  ap- 
peared to  entertain  similar  views,  as  harmonising  with  the 
objections  to  government  interference  which  he  had  on 
previous  occasions  urged  in  his  newspaper.  The  more, 
however,  he  examined  the  present  proposal,  the  more  was 
he  convinced  of  its  impartiality  and  advantages  in  a  na- 
tional- point  of  view ;  and  having  thus  made  up  his  mind, 
he  joined  his  friend  Samuel  Bailey,  Esq.,  in  signing  the  pe- 
tition from  Sheffield  in  favor  of  the  government  scheme  of 
education,  in  opposition  to  one  which  had  been  adopted  at 
a  public  meeting  against  the  measure,  and  to  which  he  was 
Urgently  solicited  to  affix  his  name." 


VISIT    TO    WATH.  307 

Mr.  Holland,  speaking  of  the  odd  style  of  praise  be- 
stowed upon  an  Independent  minister  of  the  city,  by  one 
of  his  parishioners :  "  Our  parson,"  said  the  man,  "  is  a 
devil  for  preaching."  "It  is  curious,"  remarked  Mont- 
gomery, "  to  see  how  fond  certain  profane  talkers  are  of 
referring  to  the  prince  of  darkness  as  a  model  of  excel- 
lence. I  recollect  dining  a  few  years  since,  at  Derby,  with 
a  gentleman,  who  told  me  that  he  had  played  at  cribbage 
all  night  in  the  coach.  I  replied,  innocently  enough,  as  I 
thought,  '  I  suppose,  sir,  you  cannot  sleep  while  travelling  ?' 
'  Oh,  yes ! '  was  the  prompt  reply,  '  I  sleep  like  the  devil.' 
It  occurred  to  me,  at  the  time,  to  compose  an  essay  on  this 
theme,  referring  particularly  to  those  arts  and  employments 
in  which,  it  may  be  presumed,  that  he  who  was  a  liar  and 
a  murderer  from  the  beginning,  is,  indeed,  a  master-work- 
man. I  wrote  only  one  passage,  in  which  I  described  the 
devil's  dream  at  the  close  of  one  of  his  busiest  days,  such 
as  that  of  the  battle  of  Waterloo.  The  subject  was  thrill- 
ing, but  not  pleasing  ; "  a  little  too  devilish,  perhaps. 

July.  At  the  solicitation  of,  and  in  company  with  Mr. 
Holland,  the  poet  visited  Wath,  his  first  stopping  place 
after  his  flight  from  Mirfield.  The  railway  carried  them 
to  within  three  miles  of  the  village,  to  which  they  had  a 
pleasant  walk  between  shady  hedges  blooming  with  the 
flowers  of  Long  Time  Ago. 

"  We  presently  passed,"  says  the  friend,  fondly  treasur- 
ing every  incident  of  the  day,  "  the  house  where  Mont- 
gomery used  to  visit  Brameld,  the  village  bookseller ;  and 
then  Swinton  Church,  in  which,"  he  said,  "  he  once  ad- 
dressed a  congregation,  including  some  members  of  the 
Wentworth  House.  You  will  readily  believe  that  my  fancy 
suowested  —  though  I  did  not  mention  it  —  the  contrast 
between  the  condition  of  the  runaway  boy  at  Wath  feel- 


368  LIFE   OF   MONTGOMERY. 

ing  bis  way  to  the  metropolis,  and  that  of  the  eloquent 
Christian  poet  —  and  layman  —  addressing  a  large  audience 
in  this  church,  in  behalf  of  missionary  enterprise,  in  the 
presence  of  Earl  Fitzwilliam  ! 

"  After  walking  a  little  longer,  we  came  in  sight  of  the 
4  Queen  of  Villages ; '  the  plain,  but  not  inelegant  spire  of 
the  church,  the  large  hall,  the  very  handsome  Wesleyan 
chapel,  and  about  a  dozen  good  houses,  forming,  with  the 
great  number  of  intermingled  orchard  and  other  trees, 
with  some  beautiful  scenery  in  the  rich  valley  of  the 
Dearne,  a  very  pleasing  picture.  A  few  minutes  more, 
and  we  were  in  Wath ;  —  Montgomery,  after  an  interval 
of  forty  years,  once  more  perambulating  a  village,  where, 
as  he  said,  at  the  time  of  his  residence,  '  there  was  not  one 
shabby  house,  nor  hardly  an  indigent  family  : '  adding,  '  I 
recollect,  indeed,  there  was  one  pauper  died  during  the 
overseership  of  my  old  master,  Hunt,  who  had  a  passing- 
bell  rung  for  him,  which,  I  dare  say,  is  not  done  even  here 
now-a-days.'  As  we  sauntered  along  the  street  our  friend 
mentioned  the  names  of  many  persons  who  occupied  the 
houses  on  either  hand,  half  a  century  before ;  till  coming 
to  the  good,  plain  gray-stone  building,  which  you  well 
enough  remember  — '  and  this,'  said  he,  '  was  our  house, 
the  second  window  over  the  door  there  being  that  of  my 
bed -room.'  We  entered,  and  found  the  tenant  very  court- 
eous and  ready  to  show  us  over  the  premises.  We  next 
proceeded  to  the  house  of  the  parish  clerk  to  obtain  access 
to  the  church  and  grave-ground,  where  the  action  of  the 
poet's  Vigil  of  St.  Mark  is  laid : 

"  '  That  silent,  solemn,  simple  spot, 
The  mouldering  realm  of  peace, 
Where  human  passions  are  forgot, 
Where  human  follies  cease.' 


REMINISCENCES    OF   YOUTH.  359 

"  On  my  naming  to  the  sub-clerical  functionary  that  my 
companion  was  Mr.  Montgomery,  of  whom  he  might  per- 
haps have  heard,  he  promptly  expressed  his  respect  for 
'  the  gentleman  of  that  name,'  whom  he  had  once  known 
as  a  youth  in  Mr.  Hunt's  shop,  and  of  whose  subsequent 
fame  as  a  poet  he  had  often  heard :  but  he  seemed  rather 
to  doubt  the  identity  of  those  characters  with  the  indivi- 
dual before  him.  All  suspicion,  however,  vanished  instantly 
that  Montgomery  adverted  to  the  more  than  local  celebrity 
of  the  clerk's  father,  '  old  Billy  Evers,'  as  a  fiddler  —  his 
music  having,  we  believe,  occasionally  mingled  with  that 
of  Dr.  Miller  and  his  protege  Herschel,  in  those  private 
concerts  at  the  adjacent  village  of  Bolton,  which  are  men- 
tioned by  Southey  in  '  The  Doctor.'  We  took  a  glass  of 
wine  with  old  Mr.  Johnson,  a  hale  and  thriving  village 
liquor-merchant,  who  received  us  most  heartily,  but  star- 
tled me  not  a  little  by  a  remark  to  this  effect :  '  Mr.  Mont- 
gomery, I  think  you  have  never  been  married ;  I  have  only 
this  very  day  been  talking  to  wife  about  the  verses  you 
wrote  on  Hannah  Turner ! '  This  was  like  catching  a  but- 
terfly with  a  pair  of  blacksmith's  tongs ;  and  I  instantly 
changed  the  subject  of  conversation." 

The  gentlemen  reached  home  at  evening,  having  had  a 
day  of  more  than  anticipated  enjoyment.  The  aged  poet 
seemed  to  have  renewed  his  youth : 

"  While  old  enchantments  filled  his  mind 
"With  scenes  and  seasons  far  behind  — 
Childhood,  its  smiles  and  tears, 
Youth,  with  its  flush  of  years, 
Its  morning  clouds,  and  dewy  prime, 
More  exquisitely  touched  by  Time. 


370  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

"  Fancies  again  are  springing, 

Like  May-flowers  in  the  vales ; 
While  hopes,  long  lost,  are  singing 

From  thorns,  like  nightingales  — 
And  kindly  spirits  stir  his  blood 
Like  vernal  airs  that  curl  the  flood." 

The  sentiment  of  this  exquisite  little  poem,  youth  He- 
newed,we  can  readily  believe  a  transcript  of  his  experience. 
For  we  behold,  with  creeping  age,  he  found  it  easy 

"  Thus  sweetly  to  surrender 
The  present  for  the  past ; 
In  sprightly  mood,  yet  tender, 
Life's  burden  down  to  cast. 
This  is  to  taste,  from  stage  to  stage, 
Youth  on  the  lees  refined  by  age ; 
Like  wine  well  kept  and  long, 
Heady,  nor  harsh,  nor  strong, 
With  every  annual  cup,  is  quaffed 
A  richer,  purer,  mellower  draught." 

A  young  clergyman,  recently  come  to  Sheffield,  having 
sent  the  aged  poet  a  j^oem  of  his  own,  Montgomery,  with 
an  acknowledgment  of  its  pious  sentiment  and  graceful 
versification,  assumes  the  privilege  of  age,  and  candidly 
goes  on :  "I  am  prompted  to  encourage  you  to  proceed 
and  prosper,  but  this  I  durst  not  do  to  the  most  promising 
and  aspiring  youth  of  the  age  —  an  age  in  which  almost 
every  body  that  is  anybody  writes,  and  almost  nobody 
reads  poetry.  By  this  I  mean  that  verse,  excellent  verse, 
is  the  least  marketable  of  all  literary  commodities,  not  one 
volume  in  twenty,  by  its  sale,  defraying  the  expense  of 
printing  and  advertising.  The  only  safeguard  from  abso- 
lute loss  is  to  secure  a  subscription  list  from  the  author's 


LETTER  TO  THE  ROSCOE  CLUB.      371 

personal  friends  sufficient  to  cover  the  outfit  of  the  fragile 
bark.  There  probably  never  was  a  time  in  this  country 
when  more  poetry,  even  good  poetry,  was  composed  by  a 
multitude  of  contemporaries,  and  published  in  newspapers, 
magazines,  and  reviews,  <fcc,  than  may  now  be  found  every 
day  and  everywhere.  But  this  is  mere  scrap-reading,  and 
the  volumes  from  which  these  precious  things  are  pil- 
fered remain  on  the  author's  hands,  or  lie  on  the  booksel- 
lers' shelves,  till  they  are  swept  off  in  the  course  of  nature, 
that  is,  of  trade,  by  the  dealers  in  waste  paper.  This 
withering  information  I  have  so  often  had  occasion  to  con- 
vey, that  the  sight  of  a  manuscript  is  a  terror  to  me.  To 
set  you,  as  well  as  myself,  at  liberty,  I  will  here  break  off 
at  once  by  saying,  that  no  particular  reference  has  been 
made  to  your  experiment  in  this  precarious  field  of  compo- 
sition. I  entered  upon  these  statements  solely  to  make  you 
understand  why  I  could  offer  no  advice  that  might  serve 
you,  if  you  were  disposed  to  follow,  as  you  honestly  and 
honorably  might,  poetry,  as  something  more  than  a  delight- 
ful occupation  of  a  fine  talent  that  might  be  turned  to  the 
benefit  and  blessing  of  others  beside  yourself." 

A  number  of  gentlemen  in  Liverpool,  having  formed  a 
"  Roscoe  Club,"  determined  upon  holding  a  grand  soiree 
on  the  evening  of  the  1st  of  February.  Among  other  per- 
sons to  whom  they  addressed  invitations,  was  Montgomery, 
who  returned  the  following  answer  : 

"The  Mount,  January  29,  1848. 
"Gentlemen, 

"  With  my  best  thanks  for  the  courteous  invitation  to 
the  intended  soiree  of  your  members,  on  Tuesday  next,  I 
am  under  the  necessity  of  stating,  that  I  have  neither 
health  nor  strength  to  avail  myself  of  the  privilege.     For 


372  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

some  time  past,  I  have  forborne  to  take  that  active  part, 
which  was  once  my  delight,  in  the  affairs  of  our  local  in- 
stitutions, and  have  consequently  declined  occasional  over- 
tures to  be  a  sharer  in  similar  engagements  elsewhere. 
When  '  the  grasshopper  is  a  burden,'  enjoyments,  not  less 
than  labors,  become  too  stimulating  and  exhausting  to  an 
enfeebled  frame  and  discouraged  mind,  for  such  are  mine  — 
the  one  never  vigorous,  and  the  other  never  sanguine  — 
though  from  boyhood,  sufficiently  aspiring  to  long  for,  and 
aim  at,  some  distinction  among  those  who  were  themselves 
distinguished  in  poetry  and  criticism,  the  arts  which  I  loved 
most. 

"  Forty  years  ago,  when  I  was  timidly  creeping  out  of 
obscurity,  as  an  unknown  and  unpatronised  adventurer, 
both  in  verse  and  prose,  Mr.  Roscoe  spontaneously  marked 
me ;  and,  in  several  communications  through  the  post,  gave 
me  both  counsels  and  consolations,  which  were  peculiarly 
seasonable,  when  I  lay  under  the  ban  of  the  Edinburgh 
reviewers,  and  the  English  journalists  seemed  afraid  to  say 
a  good  word  for  an  excommunicated  intruder  '  on  the 
lower  slopes  of  Parnassus.'  Mr.  Roscoe's  favorable  senti- 
ments, precious  in  themselves,  were  doubly  so  as  pledges  to 
my  hopes  —  that  compositions  which  such  a  man  com- 
mended would,  to  some  extent,  '  fit  audience  find,  though 
few,'  in  other  quarters  where  judgment  was  not  less  free, 
though  less  arbitrary  (in  the  hard  sense  of  the  word), 
than  before  a  court  of  infallible  inquisitors,  whose  motto 
was,  '  Judex  damnatur  cum  nocens  absolmturf  but  which 
ought  to  have  been,  '  Lasciate  ogni  speranza,  vol  eh? 
intrate? 

"  I  am  glad  of  the  opportunity  of  acknowledging  my 
early  obligation  to  your  amiable  and  eminent  fellow-citizen, 
and  especially  to  avail  myself  of  this  opportunity,  because 


EULOGY    OF   ROSCOE.  373 

it  is  one  in  a  thousand,  when  his  townspeople  of  a  second 
and  third  generation,  from  that  with  which  he  was  contem- 
porary, have  determined  to  raise  a  monument  worthy  of 
themselves,  because  worthy  of  him,  to  commemorate  his 
services  and  their  gratitude,  not  in  perishable  marble  or 
brass,  but  in  a  living,  breathing,  and  intellectual  form, 
which  ought  never  to  die,  but  perpetuate  its  existence 
through  an  endless  succession  of  its  members,  enjoying, 
diffusing,  and  bequeathing  to  Liverpool,  while  it  lasts,  the 
blessings  which  accrued  to  its  inhabitants  by  the  residence 
among  them  of  one  who,  by  importing  into  its  harbor  the 
treasures  of  Tuscan  literature,  made  them  so  current 
through  the  whole  island,  that  while  he  ruled  the  public 
taste  by  the  revival  of  their  glories  in  the  records  of  their 
deeds,  the  spirits  of  the  Medici  seemed  to  exercise  sove- 
reignty on  the  banks  of  the  Mersey,  as  formerly  on  those 
of  the  Arno,  and  Liverpool  became  the  Florence  of 
Britain,  from  whence  the  commerce  of  elegant  literature 
was  carried  wherever  the  English  and  Italian  languages 
were  understood. 

"  The  names  of  few  of  our  illustrious  poets  and  men  of 
letters  are  distinctly  associated  with  the  names  of  the 
places  where  they  were  born,  or  in  which  they  flourished ; 
the  metropolis  most  frequently  having  been  the  rendezvous 
and  the  market  for  books  and  their  authors.  Your  great 
townsman  so  exalted  the  provincial  press,  that  its  character 
thenceforward  has  never  been  so  disparaged  as  formerly 
(perhaps)  it  deserved  to  be,  for  the  meanness  of  its  issues, 
and  the  poverty  of  its  performances.  Bristol  and  Liver- 
pool contemporaneously  redeemed  and  established  their 
credit  so  signally,  that  with  the  former  the  names  of  Words- 
worth, and  Southey,  and  Coleridge,  are  not  yet  divorced 

from  the  city  of  their  first  appearance,  and  lost  in  the  un- 
32 


374  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

meaning  form  of  "  lake  poets,"  while  that  of  Roscoe  is  so 
intimately  linked  with  Liverpool,  that  he  cannot  be  men- 
tioned, or  remembered  even  without  the  honorable  distinc- 
tion to  himself  and  his  residence,  '  Roscoe  of  Liverpool  /' 
The  collocation  here  is  unexceptionable  and  unambiguous. 
As  '  Roscoe,'  then,  cannot  be  divided  from  '  Liverpool,'  let 
'  Liverpool '  never  be  unmindful  of  her  '  Roscoe,'  or  cease 
to  benefit  by  the  influence  and  the  effects  of  his  long  and 
useful  connection  with  it  in  the  eighteenth  and  nineteenth 
centuries. 

"  These  are  crude  remarks,  but  accept  them,  as  they  have 
come  from  my  heart  through  my  pen,  for  I  have  not  time 
to  revise  them." 

Another  breach  was  now  made  in  the  narrowing  circle 
of  Montgomery's  old  friends  and  friendships  in  the  death 
of  Samuel  Roberts,  Esq.,  at  his  residence,  Park  Grange, 
near  Sheffield,  in  the  86th  year  of  his  age.  This  was  July 
24th,  1848. 

"  Three  of  my  fellow-pilgrims  have  now  finished  their 
course,  and  left  me  the  last  of  four  friends,"  he  says, 
mournfully ;  —  an  intimacy  "  born  to  do  benefits,"  hav- 
ing none  of  the  "  delirious  blood  and  wicked  spells "  of 
the  wine  bottle  with  its  long  train  of  remorseful  lnem- 
mories. 

Having  written  a  short  obituary  of  him,  "  I  could  not 
go  into  any  detail  of  my  friend's  course  of  life,"  he 
writes  to  Mr.  Holland ;  "  he  was  one  of  whom  little 
could  not  be  said,  if  anything  were  attempted.  Four- 
and-twenty  years  ago,  towards  the  close  of  The  Pelican 
Island,  I    said, 

"  The  world  grows  darker,  lonelier,  and  more  silent, 
As  I  go  down  into  the  vale  of  tears. 


THE    LOSS    OF    FRIENDS.  375 

"  You  will  understand  this  better  twenty  and  four  years 
hence,  and  also  find  out  that  there  is  something  to  a  living 
man  darker  than  darkness,  more  lonely  than  loneliness, 
more  silent  than  silence.  "What  is  that  ?  The  space  in 
our  eye,  our  ear,  and  our  mind,  which  the  presence  of  a 
friend  once  filled,  and  which  imagination  itself  cannot  now 
fill.  Infinite  space,  invisible,  inaudible,  dimensionless,  is 
not  more  inapprehensible  than  that  remembered  range  in 
which,  to  us,  he  lived,  moved,  and  had  a  being.  '  Absent 
from  the  body,'  is  a  far  different  separation  from  that 
which  the  earth's  diameter  interposes  between  two  breath- 
ing conscious  beings,  each  present  with  himself  and  con- 
temporary with  the  other,  but  as  utterly  beyond  ]}ersonal 
communication  as  the  living  with  the  dead,  or  the  dwellers 
in  the  dust,  each  resting  in  his  bed,  side  by  side.  I  must 
not  rhapsodize  any  more.  We  two  yet  can  meet  and 
part ;  and  how  much  of  life's  acting  and  suffering  these 
two  monosyllables  comprehend  !  I  have  only  another  to 
add ;  and  that  is  that  I  am,  very  sincerely,  your  Friend." 

On  the  29th  Mr.  Roberts  was  interred  at  Church- Anston. 
Montgomery  attended  the  funeral  —  a  sincere  as  well  as  a 
ceremonial  mourner  ;  his  feelings,  after  reaching  home,  be- 
ing embodied  in  the  following  fines : 

"  We  will  remember  thee  in  love  : 

Thy  race  is  run  —  thy  work  is  done ; 
Now  rest  in  peace, 

Where  sin,  and  toil,  and  suffering  cease ; 
Meanwhile,  in  hope  to  meet  above, 
When  these  with  us  no  more  shall  be, 
In  love  we  will  remember  thee." 


376  LIFE   OF   MONTGOMERY. 

On  opening  the  will  of  the  deceased,  although  it  did  not 
comprise  any  formal  testamentary  bequest  to  any  of  his 
friends,  it  contained  a  pencilled  memorandum  to  the  effect, 
that  the  executor  (Samuel  Roberts,  Jun.)  should  give  some 
memento  of  his  late  father's  esteem  to  the  poet :  "  a  wish, 
which  we  happen  to  know,"  says  Mr.  Holland,  "  was  not 
less  cheerfully  than  promptly  and  liberally  realized  by  a 
present  of  one  hundred  guineas." 


CHAPTER    XX. 

EXTINCTION  OF  THE  IRIS  —  LIFE  OF  KEATS  —  SHELLEY  —  MISSIONARY 
JUBILEE  —  TRACT  SOCIETY  JUBILEE  —  SICKNESS  —  POEMS  —  RECOVERY 
—  VISIT  TO  FULNECK  —  CELEBRATION  OF  HIS  BIRTH-DAY  —  TREE- 
PLANTING   AT    THE   3IOUNT  —  VISIT   TO   BUXTON. 

In  September,  1848,  the  THs,  which  Montgomery  estab- 
lished fifty-four  years  before,  and  which  at  one  period  was 
the  only  newspaper  in  Sheffield,  closed  its  existence.  A  few 
weeks  later,  the  Sheffield  Mercury,  with  which  Mr.  Holland 
had  been  connected  for  fifteen  years,  merged  itself  into  a 
new  sheet,  and  thus  an  interesting  link  between  the  old 
editor  and  the  younger,  his  future  biographer,  was  broken. 

"  Every  Saturday  afternoon,"  Mr.  Holland  tells  us,  "  he 
took  care  to  be  found  in  his  room  at  the  Music  Hall,  be- 
cause at  4  o'clock,  to  a  minute,  the  beloved  and  venerable 
bard  uniformly  made  his  appearance,  gliding  down  the  pas- 
sage as  quietly  as  a  ghost ;  and  after  sitting  and  chatting 
for  half  an  hour,  carried  off  with  him  the  newspaper." 

"  And  so  this  is  the  last  Sheffield  Mercury  we  are  to 
have,  and  you  are  no  longer  Mr.  Editor,"  said  Mont- 
gomery, on  his  last  visit  to  this  old  haunt ;  "  I  confess  I  am 
sorry  on  every  account." 

"  So  the  c  march  of  intellect '  leaves  behind  first  one  and 

then  another,   in  succession,"  answered  his  friend  ;    "  its 

hard  hoof,  which,  as  you  once  intimated,  trampled  on  you 
32* 


378  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

so  sternly  nearly  thirty  years  ago,  has  now  trodden  me 
down." 

"  You  must  come  up  to  The  Mount,  and  let  us  talk  over 
these  momentous  changes ; "  an  invitation  which  needed 
no  renewal,  for  Mr.  Holland's  society  and  friendship  now 
formed  almost  a  daily  part  of  Montgomery's  social  enjoy- 
ment. 

A  day  or  two  after,  we  find  him  at  The  Mount,  bringing 
the  Life  of  Keats  by  Mimes,  for  the  poet's  perusal. 

"  Glad  to  see  it,"  answered  Montgomery,  "  though  I 
feel  loth  just  now  to  be  drawn  away  from  a  very  interest- 
ing subject  —  the  journal  of  the  founder  of  the  Quakers, 
an  extraordinary  book,  which  I  wonder  I  never  read  before. 
I  can  understand  the  religion  of  George  Fox  better  than 
the  poetry  of  Bysshe  Shelley  and  John  Keats.  Members 
of  the  Society  of  Friends  —  to  their  honor  be  it  spoken 
—  were  among  the  earliest  advocates  for  the  emancipation 
of  slaves." 

"  Yes,"  answered  Mr,  Holland,  "  but  it  is  curious  to  per- 
ceive that,  even  among  them,  the  principle,  in  its  practical 
application  at  least,  was  one  of  growth  ;  for  you  will  find 
George  Fox,  on  his  visit  to  the  West  Indies,  in  16 VI,  tell- 
ing the  planters  that,  with  respect  to  their  '  negroes  or 
blacks,  they  should  endeavor  to  train  them  up  in  the  fear 
of  God  ;  as  well  them  that  were  bought  with  their  money, 
as  them  that  were  born  in  their  families,  that  all  might 
come  to  the  knowledge  of  the  Lord.  I  desired  them  also,' 
he  adds,  4  that  they  would  cause  their  overseers  to  deal 
mildly  and  gently  with  their  negroes,  and  not  use  cruelty 
towards  them,  as  the  manner  of  some  hath  been,  and  is ; 
and  that  after  certain  years  of  servitude  they  would  make 
them  free.'  I  do  not  know  how  the  thing  strikes  you,  but 
to  me  it  appears  that  a  good  deal  of  the  reproach  which, 


THE    USE    OF    A   DEVIL.  379 

in  connection  with  current  reports  of  the  growth  and 
atrocities  of  the  slave  trade  as  now  clandestinely  carried 
on,  we  so  constantly  find  to  be  cast  upon  the  party  who 
paid  the  twenty  millions  of  British  money  for  emancipation, 
originated  with  those  who  are  at  best  but  half-hearted  abo- 
litionists  themselves." 

"  I  am  afraid  there  is  too  much  truth  in  your  remark," 
rejoined  Montgomery.  "  One  does  not  always  catch  a 
new  idea  at  a  public  meeting  ;  but  there  was  to  me  some- 
thing of  novelty  in  an  anecdote  told  by  one  of  the  speakers 
at  the  "Wcsleyan  Missionary  Meeting  on  Monday  night :  — 
Two  British  sailors  were  engaged  in  assisting  at  the  de- 
barkation of  a  cargo  of  negroes  from  a  captured  slaver ; 
on  seeing  the  shocking  condition  of  the  poor  creatures  as 
they  were  brought  up,  and  the  sinister  looks  of  the  captain, 
who  was  thus  disappointed  of  his  prey  —  c  Jack,'  exclaimed 
one  of  the  sailors  to  his  companion,  '  the  devil  will  be  sure 
to  have  that  fellow.'  '  Dost  thou  really  think  so  ? '  was  the 
reply  of  his  shipmate.  *  To  be  sure  he  will ;  or  else  what's 
the  use  of  having  a  devil  ?  '  This  story,"  proceeded  Mont- 
gomery, "  reminded  me  of  one  which  I  heard  soon  after  I 
came  to  Sheffield  ;  there  appeared  in  some  of  the  meetings 
of  the  Jacobins,  as  they  were  at  that  time  called,  an  elderly 
man  of  the  name  of  Gibbs ;  he  was  regarded,  and  no 
doubt  correctly,  by  Mr.  Gales  and  others,  as  a  Government 
spy,  for  he  had  played  that  part  in  America  during  the 
War  of  Independence.  Franklin,  who  knew  him,  is  said 
to  have  exclaimed,  c  If  God  had  not  made  a  hell,  he  ought 
to  make  one  for  the  punishment  of  such  miscreants  as 
Gibbs  ! '  This  observation  savors  somewhat  of  profanity ; 
but  it  is  remarkable  that  the  philosophic  statesman  and 
the  rude  sailor  were  alike  horrified  at  atrocities,  for  which 
they  saw  no  competent  retribution  in  this  world." 


380  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

Having  read  Keats's  life,  brought  him  by  his  friend, 
he  confessed  it  a  work  of  considerable  elegance  and  a 
labor  of  love,  but  fails  in  being  convinced  that  Keats, 
had  he  lived  would  ever  have  proved  himself  a  great 
poet. 

"  It  is  very  probable,"  he  said,  "  that  if,  instead  of  falling 
early  and  entirely  into  the  so-callecl  '  Cockney-school,'  ad- 
mirably described  by  Mr.  Milnes,  Keats  had  been  thrown 
among  the  '  Lakists,'  the  result  might  have  been  every  way 
more  favorable  ;  for  the  '  worship  of  Nature,'  however  re- 
mote from  the  spirit  of  Christianity,  is  at  least  a  thousand- 
fold more  allied  to  the  sympathies  of  universal  humanity, 
than  any  reflex  image,  however  brilliant,  which  modern  in- 
genuity can  exhibit  of  the  old  mythologies  of  Greece  and 
Rome.  The  sonnets  are  to  me  the  green  spots  in  the 
sparkling  but  arid  poetry  of  Keats." 

At  the  annual  meeting  of  the  Church  Missionary  Society, 
held  in  Exeter  Hall  on  the  2d  of  May  this  year,  it  was  re- 
solved to  commemorate  the  jubilee  of  that  institution  in  all 
its  departments  throughout  the  world.  "  Montgomery," 
Mr.  Holland  tells  us,  "  was  requested  by  Mr.  Bickersteth 
to  compose  a  hymn  for  the  occasion  ;  with  this  request  the 
poet  gladly  complied,  and  in  due  course  this  composition, 
commencing,  "  The  King  of  Glory  we  proclaim,"  was  not 
only  printed  and  circulated  in  its  original  form,  wherever 
the  mother-tongue  of  the  Church  of  England  found  an  ut- 
terance in  her  services,  but  it  was  translated  also  into 
Tamul,  for  the  use  of  the  native  converts  in  Tinnevelly, 
Madras,  and  Ceylon."  This  high  festival  was  a'ppropriately 
held  on  the  first  of  November,  a  day  which  the  Church  has 
dedicated  to  the  commemoration  of  the  "  one  communion 
and  fellowship  "  in  which  all  the  members  of  Christ's  mys- 
tical body  are  knit  together ;  and  the  subject  is  adverted 


CHURCH    MISSIONARY   JUBILEE.  381 

to  here  somewhat  in  detail  by  his  loving  friend  Holland, 
"  because,"  as  he  says,  "  Montgomery  is,  perhaps,  the  only 
Christian  poet  who  had  ever  the  high  distinction  of  being 
called  upon  by  the  Church  of  Christ  to  compose,  and  by 
the  great  Head  of  that  Church  permitted  to  take  part  in 
singing,  a  strain  which  might  literally  be  said  to  have  sur- 
rounded the  earth  with  one  unrolled  melody,  carried  on 
simultaneously  with  an  entire  i  circuit  of  the  sun.' "  This 
holy  concord  of  evangelical  churchmen  in  Great  Britain, 
with  their  brethren  in  the  Lord  scattered  throughout  "  all 
nations,  and  kindreds,  and  peoples,  and  tongues,"  in  the 
same  intercessory  and  eucharistical  strains,  is  thus  antici- 
pated in  one  of  the  tracts  published  at  the  time : 

"  Before  the  auspicious  day  dawns  upon  us,  the  sun  will 
have  risen  in  the  far  East,  and  shone  upon  some  even  in 
China,  the  latest  of  the  missions  of  the  Society,  where  little 
companies  will  be  gathered  together  in  the  name  of  the 
Lord.  India  and  Ceylon  will  next  swell  the  chorus  with 
their  numerous  bands  of  native  Christians,  all  taught  to 
sing  the  same  new  song,  though  in  various  tongues  (the 
Bengalee,  Hindoo,  Teloogoo,  Tamul,  Singhalese,  Malayalim, 
Mahratta)  —  East  Africa,  with  its  as  yet  lisping  babes  in 
Christ  —  Egypt,  Smyrna,  and  Syria,  the  scanty  representa- 
tives of  the  ancient  Arabic  and  Greek  tongues  —  the  newly 
discovered  tribes  of  West  Africa  at  Abbeokouta  will  swell 
the  strains.  And  then  the  full  concert  of  voices  from  the 
elder  brethren  of  Great  Britain,  throughout  the  various 
Associations  of  our  land  —  not  on  this  day  meeting  as  al- 
moners to  commiserate  the  destitute,  but  as  fellow-helpers 
of  the  joy  of  brethren  in  the  Lord  —  like  the  'joyful 
mother'  with  her  children  —  grown  up  to  a  spiritual  equa- 
lity, and  to  an  intelligent  participation  in  divine  worship. 
Then,  as  the  sun  completes  his  circuit,  the  hearty  voices  of 


382  LIFE   OF   MONTGOMERY. 

liberated  Africans,  made 'free  indeed'  by  the  early  and 
tearful  labors  of  this  Society  —  soon  to  be  responded  to 
across  the  wide  Atlantic  by  their  kindred  race,  the  emanci- 
pated laborers  of  the  West  Indies,  and  from  the  free  wan- 
derers of  North- West  America.  Then,  when  the  shades 
of  evening  have  closed  the  lips  of  the  eastern  tribes,  ere 
yet  the  song  has  died  away  from  the  lips  of  the  mother 
Churches  of  Great  Britain,  the  New  Zealander  will  pro- 
long the  universal  anthem  with  the  manly  but  softened 
tones  of  that  noble  race.  Thus  for  a  double  day  — *  from 
the  going  forth  of  the  sun  from  the  end  of  the  heaven,  and 
his  circuit  unto  the  ends  of  it '  —  for  twenty-four  hours,  the 
Jubilee  notes  will  be  prolonged."  * 

"The  poet  had  only  just  closed  his  part  in  the* theme  of 
thanksgiving  for  the  mercies  which  had  marked  the  first 
fifty  years'  proceedings  of  the  Church  Missionary  Associa- 
tions," his  biographer  goes  on  to  say,  "  when  he  was  called 
upon,  and  consented  to  renew  the  strain  on  the  recurrence 
of  a  similar  event  in  the  history  of  a  kindred  institution  — 
the  Religious  Tract  Society.  At  the  jubilee  festival  of  this 
*  Parent  of  the  Bible  Society,'  which  was  held  at  Queen 
street  Chapel,  Sheffield,  November  13,  Montgomery  pre- 
sided ;  and,  although  he  made  no  formal  speech,  he  read  a 
copy  of  original  verses,  the  appropriateness  of  which  to  the 
occasion  will  be  obvious  from  the  following  extract,  which 
will  also  show  that,  however  the  venerable  poet  might  mis- 
trust his  lips  or  his  memory  in  the  advocacy  of  a  cause 
that  had  never  lacked  his  active  support  throughout  the 
whole  half  century  of  its  existence,  his  right  hand  had 
lost  none  of  its  cunning  in  embodying  a  fine  thought  in 
fitting  rhyme : 

*  Jubilee  Tracts,  No.  1,  p.  9. 


TRACT    SOCIETY   JUBILEE.  383 

"  <  The  sunbeams,  infinitely  small, 
In  numbers  numberless, 
Reveal,  pervade,  illumine  all 
Nature's  void  wilderness. 

"  'But,  meeting  worlds  upon  their  way, 
Wrapt  in  primeval  night, 
In  language  without  sound,  they  say 
To  each  —  God  sends  you  light. 

" '  Anon,  with  beauty,  life,  and  love, 
Those  wandering  planets  glow, 
And  shine  themselves  as  stars  above, 
On  gazers  from  below. 

"  '  Oh!  could  the  first  archangel's  eye 
In  everlasting  space, 
Through  all  the  mazes  of  the  sky 
A  single  sunbeam  trace ! 

"  '  He  might  behold  that  lovely  one 
Its  destiny  fulfill, 
As  punctual  as  the  parent  sun 
Performs  its  Maker's  will. 

u  '  The  Sun  of  Righteousness,  with  rays 
Of  uncreated  light, 
His  power  and  glory  thus  displays 
Through  nature's  darkest  night 

" '  Rays  from  that  Sun  of  Righteousness 
Our  humble  missiles  dart ; 
Mighty  at  once  to  wound  and  bless, 
To  break  and  bind  the  heart. 

"  '  And  could  the  first  archangel's  sight 
The  least  of  these  pursue, 
He  might  record — in  its  brief  flight, 
Each  had  a  work  to  do.'  " 


384  LIFE   OF   MONTGOMERY. 

As  a  contrast  between  the  operations  of  the  Tract  So- 
ciety in  1798  anil  1848,  Montgomery  pointed  with  much 
interest  to  what  might,  without  impropriety,  be  called  a 
Polyglott  tract,  circulated  in  Sheffield  at  the  latter  date ; 
it  was  in  English,  French,  German,  Italian,  Welsh,  and 
native  Irish ! 

The  winter  of  1849  battered  the  decaying  tabernacle  of 
the  aged  poet.  Fever-turns  confined  him  to  his  bed,  a 
slight  paralysis  affected  one  of  his  arms,  and  a  severe  in- 
flammation attacked  one  of  his  eyes.  His  friends  became 
alarmed ;  and  Miss  Gales  wrote  to  his  brother  Robert. 
The  tidings  brought  to  his  bedside  a  favorite  niece,  one 
Betsey  Montgomery,  the  beautiful  and  blooming  girl  who 
charmed  her  uncle  on  her  first  visit  to  Sheffield,  twenty- 
eight  years  before,  now  Mrs.  Foster,  a  gentle  and  sympa- 
thizing matron,  better  qualified  perhaps  to  be  the  nurse 
and  comfort  of  her  aged  relative. 

Mr.  Holland  proves  the  attentive  friend,  ever  at  The 
Mount,  answering  letters,  reading  favorite  authors,  or  re- 
hearsing the  news  of  the  day. 

"  He  placed  in  my  hands,"  he  tells  us  of  one  of  their  in- 
terviews, "  transcripts  of  a  portion  of  his  original  Hymns, 
several  of  which,  he  said,  I  should  find  quite  new  to  me. 
He  wished  me  to  read  aloud  the  first  line  of  each  composi- 
tion ;  and,  as  I  did  so,  he  not  only  gave  me  a  little  history 
of  the  origin  of  most  of  them,  but  indicated  such  as  he 
thought  I  had  not  seen  before.  Several  of  the  latter  I 
read  through ;  but  witnessing  the  strong  emotions  which 
they  excited  in  the  poet's  mind,  and  wishing  also  to  avoid 
participation  in  such  a  scene  of  trying  sympathy,  I  apolo- 
gized and  desisted.  '  Read  on,'  said  he,  i  I  am  glad  to  hear 
you ;  the  words  recall  the  feelings  which  first  suggested 
them,  and  it  is  good  for  me  to  feel  affected  and  humbled 


"AT    HOME    IN    HEAVEN."  335 

by  the  terms  in  which  I  have  endeavored  to  provide  for 
the  expression  of  similar  religious  experience  in  others.  As 
all  my  hymns  embody  some  portions  of  the  history  of  the 
joys  or  sorrows,  the  hopes  and  the  fears  of  this  poor  heart, 
so  I  cannot  doubt  that  they  will  be  found  an  acceptable 
vehicle  of  expression  of  the  experience  of  many  of  my 
fellow-creatures  who  may  be  similarly  exercised  during  the 
pilgrimage  of  their  Christian  life.' " 

"We  can  hardly  forgive  Mr.  Holland  for  not  eliciting  and 
recording  the  biographical  antecedents  which  gave  them 
birth,  for  are  they  not  experiences  of 

"  the  truths,  for  whose  sweet  sake 


We  to  ourselves  and  to  our  G-od  are  dear  ?  " 

None  of  his  poems  more  choicely  embodies  his  feelings 
at  this  time  than  At  Home  in  Heaven,  glimpses  of  which 
break  on  the  believer's  eye  as  "  life's  little  day  draws 
nearer  to  its  close,"  and  a  that  evening-time  when  it  shall 
be  light "  dawns  upon  his  soul : 

"  Here  in  the  body  pent, 

Absent  from  Him  I  roam, 
Yet  nightly  pitch  my  moving  tent 
A  day's  march  nearer  home. 

"  My  Father's  house  on  high  — 
Home  of  my  soul  —  how  near, 
At  times,  to  Faith's  foreseeing  eye 
The  golden  gates  appear  ! 

"  Ah !  then  my  spirit  faints 
To  reach  the  land  I  love, 
The  bright  inheritance  of  saints, 

Jerusalem  above. 
33 


386  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

"  Yet  clouds  will  intervene, 
And  all  my  prospect  flies ; 
Like  Noah's  dove,  I  flit  between 
Eough  seas  and  stormy  skies. 

"  Anon  the  clouds  disperse, 

The  winds  arid  waters  cease. 
"While  sweetly  o'er  my  gladdened  heart 
Expands  the  bow  of  peace." 

"  I  have  received,"  he  once  said,  "  directly  and  indirectly 
more  testimonials  of  approbation  in  reference  to  those 
verses  than  perhaps  any  other  which  I  have  written  of  the 
same  class,  with  the  exception  of  those  on  Prayer." 

The  poem  commences  "  For  ever  with  the  Lord,"  and 
ends  with 

"  That  resurrection- word  ! 
That  shout  of  victory  ! 
Once  more  —  '  For  ever  with  the  Lord !' 
Amen,  so  let  it  be." 

We  have  only  extracted  the  part  of  a  beautiful  whole. 

Many  days'  march  yet  to  the  heavenly  home.  Healing 
came  and  Montgomery  was  again  able  to  leave  his  room, 
and  take  his  old  seat  at  the  table  and  the  fire-side. 

"  How  grateful  after  an  interval  of  sickness  is  the  return 
to  common  food,"  he  exclaimed. 

"  Nor  is  the  least  appropriate  condiment,"  rejoined  a 
friend,  "  '  a  cheerful  heart,'  as  the  poet  says,  '  that  tastes 
those  gifts  with  joy.'  " 

"  If  Addison  had  written  nothing  but  those  two  lines," 
said  Montgomery,  "  they  ought  to  be  sufficient  to  transmit 


VISIT   TO    FULNECK.  387 

his  name  to  posterity ;  they  admirably  express  a  striking 

sentiment  which,   I  believe,   occurs   nowhere    else  in   the 

» 

whole  range  of  our  popular  hymnology,  and  which  is,  per- 
haps, but  rarely  appreciated  as  it  deserves  to  be  by  many 
persons  who  are  very  familiar  with  the  poem  from  which 
your  quotation  is  derived." 

After  three  months'  imprisonment  within  doors,  he  again 
reappeared  in  the  streets  —  but  "  how  faded  and  infirm  I" 
said  the  passers  by. 

"  Early  in  the  month  of  April,"  —  we  extract  from  his 
English  biography,  —  "he  was  sufficiently  recovered  to  make 
a  visit  to  Fulneck,  where  he  enjoyed,  with  his  brethren,  those 
solemnities  which  mark  the  festival  of  Easter  in  the  Mora- 
vian communities,  especially  the  '  Love  Feast,'  Avhich  is  held 
on  what  they  call  the  '  great  Sabbath,'  or  Saturday,  which 
occurs  between  the  days  on  which  all  the  Western  churches 
commemorate  the  crucifixion  and  the  resurrection  of  Christ. 
Calling  on  Mr.  Holland  immediately  after  his  return  to 
Sheffield,  the  poet  was  evidently  still  under  the  peculiar  in- 
fluence of  those  feelings  which  he  had  experienced  during 
his  brief  but  hallowed  intercourse  with  Alma  Mater  /  the 
music,  the  singing,  the  prayers  and  the  addresses  of  the  oc- 
casion, strongly  recalling  similar  exercises  of  the  paschal 
season  in  the  days  of  his  childhood  and  youth." 

One  fine  morning  in  May,  Mr.  Law,  the  curator  of  the 
Sheffield  Botanical  Gardens,  happening  to  meet  Montgom- 
ery and  Miss  Gales  walking  in  those  beautiful  grounds, 
when  no  other  company  were  present,  asked  the  poet  to 
gratify  him  by  planting  an  oak.  The  request  was  at  once 
complied  with.  He  afterwards,  at  the  request  of  the  com- 
mittee, planted  two  Chilian  pines  at  the  head  of  the 
principal  walk,  and  immediately  in  front  of  the  conser- 
vatory. 


388  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

His  1 8th  year  also,  a  few  months  afterwards,  was  inaug- 
urated by%  a  tree-planting ;  Mrs.  Mitchell,  one  of  the  resi- 
dents of  The  Mount,  having  gracefully  got  up  a  little  fete 
champetre  on  his  birth-day,  "  that  his  name  might  live  on 
The  Mount  long  after  he  became  a  '  Tree  of  Life  at  God's 
right  hand.'  " 

On  a  bright  Saturday  afternoon,  the  little  party  escorted 
him  from  his  own  door  to  the  centre  of  the  lawn,  where  the 
gardener  gave  him  a  young  beech-sapling,  which,  with  Mrs. 
Mitchell's  help,  he  put  into  the  soil.  "  I  thank  you,  my  dear 
sir !  may  you  see  many  winters'  snow  upon  its  naked 
branches,  and  many  spring  renewals  of  its  beautiful 
foliage." 

"  If  all  that  is  done  under  the  sun  this  day,"  said  the 
aged  man,  "were  to  be  recorded  in  a  book,  this  transaction 
would  appear  very  insignificant,  but  the  planting  of  a  tree 
in  the  midst  of  our  little  world  of  The  Mount  is  an  event 
of  more  than  every  day  importance  to  us,  assembling  us  to 
witness  the  introduction  of  a  new  object  to  our  eye,  a  new 
companion  of  our  walks  within  this  pleasant  enclosure,  and 
a  new  association  of  ideas  on  which  memory  may  hereafter 
sometimes  delight  to  dwell. 

"  When  a  child  is  born,"  he  continued  more  gravely, 
"  there  is  only  one  thing  that  can  be  surely  foretold  con- 
cerning its  destiny  —  that  sooner  or  later  it  will  die.  Be- 
tween the  cradle  and  the  grave  there  arise  numberless 
changes  and  contingencies,  kept  hidden  in  the  councils  of 
God,  and  never  by  searching  to  be  known,  till  their  gradual 
development  —  their  mysteries  are  manifestly  revealed,  and 
their  purposes  understood.  When  a  tree  springs  out  of  the 
ground,  something  different  may  be  certified ;  and  here  I 
might  take  up  my  parable,  and  prophesy  concerning  this 
which  we  have  seen  planted  to-day,  that  from  henceforth, 


CELEBRATION    OF   HIS   BIRTH-DAY.  339 

in  the  ordinary  dispensation  of  Providence,  it  may  be  ex- 
pected to  rise  to  maturity,  and  there  continue  till,  if 
spared  by  the  axe  and  the  storm,  it  has  fulfilled  every 
purpose  for  which  it  was  created,  and  sustained  through 
its  appointed  existence.  And  how  will  it  do  this  ?  Simply 
by  never  losing  a  moment  of  time,  and  never  misspending 
one. 

"  Time  is  lost  by  not  occupying  it ;  and  misspent  by  not 
occupying  it  well.  O  how  different  a  being  in  your  pre- 
sence had  the  utterer  of  these  words  been,  if  at  this  hour  it 
could  have  been  said  of  him,  through  seventy-seven  years  of 
pilgrimage  on  earth  (to  borrow  the  language  of  an  insj)ired 
prophet),  'As  the  days  of  a  tree  only  have  been  his  days,' 
not  in  number  only,  but  in  the  performance  of  duties ! 
Far  otherwise,  however,  I  must  testify  of  myself.  Time  is 
lost  in  not  employing  it,  and  misspent  in  employing  it  ill. 
Millions  of  moments  have  I  lost  by  idleness,  and  millions 
more  have  I  misspent,  if  not  doing  positive  evil  (though  no 
small  portion  may  be  charged  to  that  account),  misspent  in 
not  doing  that  which  alone  is  good  in  the  sight  of  God.  It 
needs  no  affectation  of  humility  to  make  this  confession 
before  my  friends  around  me  on  this  peculiar  occasion, 
when  they  are  delighting  to  do  me  honor,  which  I  can  only 
return,  as  I  do,  with  gratitude.  I  trust  I  have  not  gone 
beyond  the  license  of  the  occasion  so  pointedly  personal : 
nor  will  it  be  out  of  place  or  out  of  season,  if  I  express 
my  heart's  desire  and  prayer,  that  we  may  henceforth,  by 
the  grace  of  God,  which  alone  can  enable  us,  —  make  the 
tree  thus  planted  an  example  and  an  argument,  that  what 
the  tree  unconsciously,  yet  unvaryingly,  does,  we  may  con- 
scientiously and  heartily  do  at  all  times,  and  under  all  cir- 
cumstances ;  so  shall  God,  even  our  own  God,  give  us  his 

blessing,  and  make  us  blessings  to  one  another  in  our  gen- 
33* 


390  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

eration  ;  so  may  we  all  be  trees  of  righteousness  —  trees  of 
his  own  planting  here  ;  and  in  his  Paradise  above  undying 
trees  of  life,  by  the  river  of  life  flowing  out  of  the  throne 
of  God  and  the  Lamb." 

"  The  brightness  of  the  day,"  says  one  of  the  party,  "  the 
general  beauty  of  the  landscaj)e  —  the  age  and  venerable 
aspect  of  the  speaker  —  the  attention  of  the  group  which 
surrounded  him  —  a  thousand  associations  of  the  past  in 
his  history  —  the  light  in  which  imagination  beheld  the 
after-interest  of  the  tree  just  planted,  conspired  to  give  a 
peculiar  charm  to  the  foregoing  expressions. 

"  At  the  close  of  the  address  the  company  were  invited 
by  Mr.  Mitchell  to  return  to  his  house,  and  drink  a  glass  of 
wine  in  honor  of  the  occasion.  Here,  again,  they  found 
that  the  ingenuity  of  their  hostess  had  provided  an  appro- 
priate memento  of  the  day  for  the  children  present,  in  the 
shape  of  a  dozen  Testaments,  each  appropriately  inscribed, 
and  presented  by  the  hand  of  Montgomery,  and  each  hav- 
ing on  its  first  leaf  the  following  lines  : 

11  Behold  the  book  whose  leaves  display 
Jesus,  the  Life,  the  Truth,  the  Way. 
Read  it  with  diligence  and  prayer : 
Seek  it  and  you  will  find  him  there. 

"  J.  M." 

The  next  day  he  gave  Mrs.  Mitchell  the  following  lines, 
written  on  an  embossed  card  : 

"  Live  long,  live  well,  fair  Beechen  Tree ! 
And  oh !  that  I  might  live  like  thee, 
Never  to  lose  one  moment  more, 
As  millions  I  have  lost  before ; 


VISIT    TO    BUXTON.  391 

Nor  e'er  misspend  another  lent, 
As  millions  past  have  been  misspent ; 
Each  in  our  place  would  then  fulfill 
Our  Maker  and  our  Master's  will. 

"  Moments  to  ages  train  a  tree ; 
To  man,  they  bring  eternity. 
Though  as  the  tree  falls,  so  it  lies, 
Man  ends  not  thus ;  unless  he  rise, 
His  fall  is  final  —  spirit  never  dies." 

As  pilgrims  were  pointed  to  the  hoary  head  of  the 
Penshurst  Oak,  or  sat  reverently  beneath  the  "  pensile 
boughs "  of  Pope's  Willow,  or  wrought  "  traps "  from 
Shakespeare's  immortal  Mulberry,  so  might  travellers  have 
sought  this  Beech  tree  on  The  Mount,  to  invoke  the  holy 
fervors  of  the  Bard  of  Sheffield  —  but  for  the  ruthless  hand 
of  mischief,  which  a  few  months  later  destroyed  many  an 
arboral  ornament  of  the  lawn,  and  the  Beechen  Tree  among 
the  rest. 

An  August  flitting  to  Buxton.  Miss  Gales  accompanies 
him. 

"  Time  takes  so  much  killing,"  he  playfully  remarks  to  a 
correspondent,  a  few  days  after  his  arrival,  in  excuse  for 
not  having  written  earlier,  "  when  you  have  nothing  else  to 
do  with  him,  that  there  seems  no  end  of  the  work,  and  in- 
deed there  is  none ;  for  in  doing  nothing,  as  there  is  no 
progress,  there  can  be  no  end ;  while  in  doing  everything 
you  cannot  escape  from  a  finality  in  a  world  where  all  that 
is  is  mortal,  and  that  only  which  is  not  is  interminable." 

After  jotting  down  the  minor  interests  of  the  journey 
for  his  friend's  perusal,  he  continues : 

"  On  Monday,  however,  I  did  seriously  sit  down  to  the 
duty,  but  was  interrupted  by  being  carried  off  in  Mr.  Black- 


392  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

well's  carriage  in  the  forenoon,  in  one  direction  among  the 
mountains,  and  in  the  afternoon,  on  a  '  visit  of  mercy, ^  on 
behalf  of  our  kind-hearted  neighbor,  Mrs.  Mitchell,  who 
was  here  a  few  weeks  ago,  to  the  cottage  of  a  poor  family ; 
that  errand  Miss  G.  and  I  performed  on  foot ;  and  if  you 
have  an  opportunity  of  calling  on  Mrs.  M.,  next  door  to 
us,  at  The  Mount,  please  to  tell  her  that  we  delivered  her 
packet  to  the  poor  mother,  saw  her  and  her  baby  (the 
latter  a  very  weakly  little  thing,  which  she  nurses  most 
tenderly)  and  her  maimed  husband,  who  is  apparently  re- 
covering, though  slowly,  from  his  awful  accident.  How 
ought  such  as  I  to  be  humbled  at  the  sight  of  real  poverty 
and  severe  suffering  borne  with  quiet,  and  patience,  and 
resignation  to  the  will  of  the  Lord,  even  where  they  little 
understand  his  loving  kindness,  from  the  neglect  of  those 
who  ought  to  be  their  teachers  and  exemplars.  However, 
in  all  the  dark  places  of  this  land,  whatever  may  be  said  of 
Methodists  or  Methodism,  of  Fly-Sheets  and  their  authors, 
it  is  a  glorious  tiling  to  say  of  that  people,  that,  go  where- 
ever  you  will,  through  the  length  and  breadth  of  this  whole 
land  (of  England,  at  least),  you  can  hardly  get  out  of  the 
sound  of  the  gospel  from  Wesley  an  lips.  In  this  I  do  re- 
joice, and  will  rejoice  ;  and  may  their  sound  continue  to  go 
forth  to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  speaking  in  all  the  languages 
under  heaven !  I  must  end  here.  Miss  Gales  sends  kind 
regards,  and  believe  me  ever  truly." 

A  fortnight's  abandonment  to  the  social  varieties  of  Bux- 
ton, and  a  few  days  at  dear  Fulneck,  renovated  the  elderly 
pair,  and  they  returned  to  Sheffield  early  in  September 
to  receive  the  Archbishop  of  York,  who  had  engaged  to 
preach  a  sermon  in  behalf  of  the  General  Infirmary,  a 
charity  in  which  the  poet  was  strongly  interested. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

CONGREGATIONAL,   UNION  —  EBENEZER   ELLIOTT  —  MORAVIAN   HYMN-BOOK 

—  LETTER  TO  MR.  LATROBE  —  NEW  EDITION  OF  HIS  WORKS — LETTER 
FROM  LUCY  AIKIN  —  TENNYSON  —  THE  DEAKIN  CHARITY  —  ANTI- 
CATHOLIC  MEETING  —  CRYSTAL  PALACE  —  BIRTH-DAY  PRESENTS  — 
MONTGOMERY  MEDAL — MEMORIAL  TREES  —  VISIT  TO  THE  SCHOOL  OF 
DESIGN  —  LECTURE  BEFORE  THE  LITERARY  AND  PHILOSOPHICAL  SO- 
CIETY—  MEETING   OF   THE  METHODIST   CONFERENCE  —  GRAY'S    POETRY 

—  "ORIGINAL  HYMNS  "  FROM  LUCY  AIKIN  —  AUTUMN  TRAIT  —  AT  HIS 
TOST  TO  THE  LAST  —  DEATH  —  FUNERAL  —  CONCLUSION. 

Although  now  exceedingly  averse  to  making  his  ap- 
pearance in  public,  Montgomery  consented  to  dine  with 
the  ministers  of  "  The  Congregational  Union,"  assembled 
at  Sheffield,  October,  1849.  In  doing  this,  he  not  only 
yielded  to  the  importunity  of  old  friends,  who  were  anx- 
ious to  gratify  their  younger  brethren  by  even  a  brief  in- 
terview with  one  who  had  taken  so  active  a  part  with  their 
fathers  in  the  formation  and  advancement  of  their  religious 
institutions,  but,  by  occupying  a  place  at  the  right  hand  of 
the  Rev.  President  of  the  meeting,  testified  his  unabated 
oneness  of  spirit  with  this  section  of  the  Church  of  Christ. 
His  health  being  proposed  from  the  chair,  he  was  led  to 
make  a  short  speech,  in  which  he  adverted  to  his  first 
knowledge  of  the  meetings  and  worship  of  the  Independ- 
ents, by  casually  attending,  when  a  youth,  and  while  resid- 
ing at  Wath,  the  cottage-preaching  of  ti  man  whose  name 


394  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

had  passed  into  the  history  of  that  revival  of  religion 
begun  by  the  Methodists,  namely,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Graves, 
one  of  six  students  who  had  previously  been  expelled 
from  the  University  of  Oxford  for  "  singing,  praying,  and 
expounding  the  Scriptures."  He  mentioned  also,  as  in- 
deed he  had  done  on  previous  occasions,  that  one  of  the 
very  first  persons  whose  friendship  he  enjoyed,  after  he 
came  to  reside  at  Sheffield,  was  a  man  who  held  no  second 
place  among  Congregational  theologians,  —  the  Rev.  John 
Pye  Smith,  D.  D.  "  This  kind  friend,"  added  the  speaker, 
with  much  naivete  and  feeling,  and  amid  the  reiterated 
cheers  of  his  audience,  "  when  on  a  certain  occasion,  I  had 
to  leave  Sheffield  for  six  months,  stepped  into  my  place, 
and  looked  after  my  affairs :  we  were,  indeed,  alike  young 
and  inexperienced  politicians,  committing  many  mistakes, 
and  getting  into  some  scrapes,  which  the  possession  of 
older  and  colder  heads  might  probably  have  enabled  us 
to  avoid." 

Ebenezer  Elliott,  the  "  Corn-Law  Rhymer,"  died  on  the 
1st  of  December,  and  the  publisher  of  the  Sheffield  Inde- 
pendent, while  preparing  a  memoir  of  the  poet  for  that 
paper,  wrote  to  Montgomery  to  ask  if  he  could  furnish  any 
particulars ;  the  following  was  his  reply : 

"The  Mount,  December  6,  1849. 
"Dear  Sir, 

"  I  am  sorry  that  I  cannot  serve  you  with  any  infor- 
mation respecting  the  late  Mr.  Ebenezer  Elliott,  of  whose 
decease  I  was  not  aware  till  I  received  your  letter.  I  do 
not  remember  ever  having  been  for  an  hour  in  his  com- 
pany. Our  occasional  meetings  were  few,  and  short,  and 
far  between,  though  he  was  known  and  admired  by  me  as 
a  poet  before  the  world  would  either  know  or  honor  him 


TRIBUTE   TO    ELLIOTT.  395 

as  such.  He  published  several  small  volumes  at  intervals, 
the  manuscripts  of  which  (mostly)  he  had  confidentially 
submitted  to  me;  and  they  had  my  best  encouragement 
on  the  ground  of  their  merit ;  but  not  one  of  these  could 
command  public  attention,  till  he  broke  out  in  the  '  Corn- 
Law  Rhymes,'  as  Waller  said  of  Denham,  c  like  the  Irish 
Rebellion,  forty  thousand  strong,  when  nobody  thought 
of  such  a  thing.'  Then,  indeed,  he  compelled  both  aston- 
ishment and  commendation  from  all  manner  of  critics  — 
Whig,  Tory,  and  Radical  —  reviewers  vying  with  each 
other  who  should  most  magnanimously  extol  the  talents 
which  they  had  either  not  discovered  or  had  superciliously 
overlooked,  till,  for  their  own  credit,  they  could  no  longer 
hold  their  peace,  or  affect  to  despise  what  they  had  not  had 
heart  to  acknowledge  when  their  countenance  would  have 
done  service  to  the  struggling  author.  A  few  of  his  smaller 
pieces  did  find  their  way  into  the  Iris,  but  I  believe  these 
were  all  republished  by  himself  in  his  succeeding  miscarry- 
ing volumes.  I,  however,  am  quite  willing  to  hazard  any 
critical  credit  by  avowing  my  persuasion  that,  in  origin- 
ality, power,  and  even  beauty  —  when  he  chose  to  be 
beautiful  —  he  might  have  measured  heads  beside  Byron 
in  tremendous  energy,  —  Crabbe,  in  graphic  description, 
and  Coleridge,  in  effusions  of  domestic  tenderness ;  while 
in  intense  sympathy  with  the  poor,  in  whatever  he  deemed 
their  wrongs  or  their  sufferings,  he  excelled  them  all,  and 
perhaps  everybody  else  among  his  contemporaries  in  prose 
or  verse.  He  was,  in  a  transcendental  sense,  the  Poet  of 
the  Poor,  whom,  if  not  always  l  iciselyj  I  at  least  dare  not 
say  he  loved  '  too  well.'  His  personal  character,  his  for- 
tunes, and  his  genius  would  require,  and  they  deserve,  a 
full  investigation,  as  furnishing  an  extraordinary  study  of 
human  nature." 


39G  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

A  book  was  published  this  year  which  had  cost  our  poet 
no  little  study  and  solicitude  —  a  revised  edition  of  the 
Moravian  Hymn  Book. 

As  early  as  1835,  he  was  officially  invited  by  a  Confer- 
ence of  the  Brethren's  Church  to  undertake  an  entire  re- 
vision of  their  large  Hymn  Book.  The  earliest  specimens 
of  Moravian  psalmody  in  English  appeared  in  1746,  a  cu- 
rious volume,  which  gave  place  ten  years  later  to  one 
prepared  by  Bishoj)  Gambold,  and  published  by  "autho- 
rity." This  book  had  formed  the  basis  of  repeated  editions 
since  1789,  each  expurgated  and  refined  in  its  turn,  until 
the  book  has  assumed  its  final  character  in  the  version 
issued  iii  1849  under  the  prudent  and  zealous  co-operation 
of  "  Brother  James  Montgomery"  and  the  authorities  of 
the  Brethren's  Church  in  Great  Britain. 

"  The  labor,"  Mr.  Holland  tells  us,  "  which  Montgomery 
bestowed  upon  this  work,  can  only  be  apprehended  by  any 
one  who  will  compare,  as  we  have  done,  the  matter  of  the 
book  now  in  use  in  the  Brethren's  English  congregations 
with  the  text  of  the  same  book  —  if,  indeed,  it  can  be 
called  the  same  —  previous  to  the  last  revision.  The  vol- 
ume contains  1200  Hymns;  and  it  is  hardly  too  much  to 
say,  that  the  time  and  thought  spent  in  the  reformation 
of  such  a  mass  of  matter,  much  of  it  of  a  peculiar  charac- 
ter, was  not  less  than  would  have  sufficed  for  the  composi- 
tion of  a  like  quantity  of  original  verse.  Whether  the 
result  has  been,  in  every  respect,  equal  in  value  to  the 
amount  of  toil  and  skill  expended  on  the  task,  has  been 
doubted  by  some  persons;  for  the  poet,  having  had  to 
deal  with  compositions  which  had  already  undergone  re- 
peated ordeals  of  a  similar  kind  at  the  hands  of  men  who 
attached  much  more  importance  to  directness  of  doctrinal 
meaning,  and  fervor  of  pious  expression,  than  to  anything 


MONTGOMERY    AN    "INTERCESSOR."  397 

like  poetic  euphony  or  grace,  he  was  often  compelled  either 
to  change  an  obsolete  or  equivocal  term,  to  soften  down  a 
too  striking  sentiment  into  a  general  meaning,  or  entirely 
to  remodel  the  structure  of  a  verse,  or  even  of  a  whole 
hymn.  The  inevitable  consequence  of  this  procedure  has 
been,  that  while  the  greater  portion  of  the  book  has  been 
rendered  such  as  almost  any  congregation  of  Christians 
might  adopt  as  to  the  sentiments,  and  any  experienced 
poet  approve  as  to  the  style,  many  of  the  hymns  have 
certainly  lost  a  good  deal  of  their  original  and  peculiar 
flavor  —  their  c  race,'  or,  as  Dr.  Johnson  explains  it,  '  the 
flavor  of  the  soil  on  which  they  grew.'  " 

As  illustrating  at  once  a  feature  of  the  Moravian  com- 
munities and  the  spirituality  of  Montgomery's  mind,  it 
may  be  mentioned  that  he  was  appointed,  as  he  had  been 
on  previous  occasions,  one  of  the  "  intercessors "  of  the 
Brethren's  congregation  at  Fulneck,  for  the  first  quarter 
of  the  year  1850.  This  office  requires  that  the  persons 
nominated  to  it  "  by  lot,  in  the  Elders'  Conference," 
simultaneously  devote  a  set  evening  in  the  week  to 
prayer  in  behalf  of  the  religious  body  to  which  they 
belong. 

Calling  one  morning  on  Mr.  Holland,  to  procure  the 
volumes  of  the  Quarterly  Review  for  the  years  1811-1812, 
"I  have,"  he  said,  "just  been  reading  the  third  volume  of 
the  Life  of  Southey,  and  I  concluded  it  with  painful  feel- 
ings in  reference  to  the  tone  of  ignorance  and  prejudice  in 
which  he  speaks  of  evangelical  religion  in  general,  and  of 
Christian  missions  in  particular.  I  must,  of  course,  have 
read  the  articles  in  question,  when  first  published,  but  with 
less  interest,  as  not  then  certainly  knowing  who  was  the 
author  :  besides,  the  letters  just  printed  breathe  a  spirit  of 

triumph  on  the  part  of  the  reviewer,  both  as  to  his  purpose 
34 


3Q8  LIFE   OF   MONTGOMERY. 

and  materials  of  defamation,  that  stimulates  my  curiosity 
to  see  how  he  really  dealt  with  what  he  evidently  so  little 
either  understood  or  approved." 

Rev.  Mr.  Latrobe  wishing  to  dedicate  his  little  volume 
of  songs  and  hymns  to  him,  Montgomery  thus  replied  : 

"Sheffield,  June  1,  1850. 
"  Rev.  and  Deaii  Sir, 

"  I  thank  you  heartily  for  meeting  my  difficulty  on 
the  subject  of  the  proposed  inscription  of  your  forthcoming 
Hymns  to  myself,  —  in  a  manner  to  which  I  cannot  pretend 
to  offer  any  objection.  .  .  .  What  you  say  concerning 
the  late  Mr.  Wordsworth  affected  me  much,  as  correspond- 
ing nearly  with  certain  strictures  of  my  own  on  the  cha- 
racteristics of  his  moral  system,  as  develoj)ed  especially 
throughout  his  greatest  poem,  '  The  Excursion ; '  on  that 
work,  at  its  first  appearance,  I  wrote  a  critique  for  the 
4  Eclectic  Review,'  in  which  I  intimated,  in  language  as 
courteous  as  I  could,  that  he  forbore,  when  he  describes 
his  solitary  skeptic  searching  from  every  other  imaginable 
source,  for  consolation  or  hope,  in  his  bewilderment  of 
mind,  —  the  poet  forbore  sending  him  to  the  only  fountain 
whence  refreshment  and  rest  can  be  found  for  a  wounded 
spirit  and  a  heavy-laden  soul,  —  the  Gospel  of  Christ ;  at 
the  same  time  frigidly  as  well  as  vainly,  though  with  won- 
derful pomp  of  diction  and  splendor  of  illustration,  ascrib- 
ing to  the  healing  influences  of  Nature  through  her  ele- 
mentary operations,  effects,  which  nothing  but  the  grace  of 
God  can  produce.  Our  good  old  brother  Gambold's  hymn, 
'  That  I  am  thine,  my  Lord,  my  God,"  reveals  a  personal 
eoqoerience,  in  comparison  of  which  all  the  theories  and 
speculations    of   philosophers    and    philosophy   falsely    so 


NEW   EDITION    OF    HIS    WORKS.  399 

called,  are  vanities  of  vanity,  and  vexations  of  spirit,  ut- 
terly unappeasing  to  the  immortal  part  of  mortal  man. 
But  I  must  break  off;  I  have  neither  hand  nor  heart  to 
proceed  further  than  to  pray  that  I  could  now  sit  down, 
and  sing  even  to  myself  that  precious  testimony,  laying 
the  whole  emphasis  of  my  soul  upon  every  line,  especially 
on  the  second  clause  of  the  eighth  verse  : 

<uAh!  my  heart  throbs,  and  seizes  fast 
That  covenant  which  will  ever  last ; 
It  knows  —  it  knows  these  things  are  true.' 

"  May  you,  and  I,  and  all  who  may  hereafter  read  or 
sing  our  hymns,  be  enabled  to  witness  the  same  good  con- 
fession !" 

May  6th.  He  presided,  as  usual,  at  the  Wesleyan  Mis- 
sionary Anniversary  in  Sheffield. 

Copies  of  the  new  edition  of  his  works,  which  he  was 
desirous  of  living  to  see,  reached  him  on  that  day. 

The  publishers  having  been  instructed  to  transmit  a  copy 
to  his  old  friend,  Lucy  Aikin,  she  acknowledges  it  with  all 
her  youthful  vivacity : 

11  Wimbledon,  May  23d,  1850. 

"  Accept  my  best  thanks,  my  dear  old  friend,  for  the 
token  of  continued  kind  remembrance  which  I  have  re- 
ceived from  you  in  the  shape  of  a  copy  of  the  new  edition 
of  your  poems.  I  rejoiced  to  see  them  in  a  shape  so  acces- 
sible to  '  the  million,'  to  use  a  fashionable  phrase  suited  to 
our  gigantic  notions.  I  rejoiced  to  find  them  retaining 
all  their  popularity  after  so  many  years,  and  thus  giving 
proof  how  true  an  echo  they  find  in  the  hearts  and  imagin- 
ations of  readers. 

"  It  pleased  me  even  more  to  find  that  you  still  retained 


400  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

health  and  vigor  to  continue  writing,  and  to  undertake  the 
labor  of  conducting  so  goodly  a  volume  through  the  press. 
Would  that  I  could  still  exert  such  energies !  but  I  have 
long  given  up  the  use  of  the  j">en  from  discouragement,  and 
contented  myself  with  feeding  on  the  minds  of  others,  and 
sometimes  introducing  young  spirits  to  the  works  of  the 
immortal  masters. 

"  Here,  at  Wimbledon,  I  reside  under  the  roof  of  my 
dear  brother  Charles's  eldest  daughter,  Mrs.  Le  Breton, 
with  her  husband  and  eight  children,  mostly  girls,  so  that 
objects  of  tender  interest  are  not  wanting  to  me. 

"  The  last  particular  account  of  you  which  I  heard,  was 
from  my  old  friends,  the  Aston  Yateses,  and  a  very  pleasant 
picture  they  drew  of  you  in  your  retirement.  It  seemed  as 
if  your  health  continued  good,  which  I  hope  is  still  the 
case,  and  that  you  yet  exchange  gallantries  with  the  young 
ladies  [i.e.,  the  Muses].  I  am  persuaded  that  the  poetical 
temperament  retains  its  elasticity  best  of  all.  I  used  to 
observe  this  in  Mrs.  Barbauld,  who  never  lost  her  youth- 
fulness  of  fancy.  My  dear  brother  Arthur,  now  the  only 
brother  left  me,  continues  to  occupy  himself  with  chemistry. 
He  still  lectures  on  this  science  at  Guy's  Hospital,  besides  em- 
ploying himself  very  diligently  in  the  many  analyses  which  he 
is  employed  to  make  for  various  j^urposes.  A  happier  old  man 
I  nowhere  know,  and  certainly  not  a  more  benevolent  one. 

"  You  never  visit  London  now,  I  fear ;  and,  as  for  me, 
my  longest  journeys,  for  some  years  past,  have  stretched 
no  further  than  the  eight  miles  between  Wimbledon  and 
London.  In  this  world,  therefore,  in  all  human  probability, 
we  shall  meet  no  more  ;  but  we  may  still  think  of  each 
other  with  esteem  and  affection,  and  hope  to  meet  in  that 
world  whither  so  many  of  our  nearest  and  dearest  have 
taken  their  flight  before  us." 


CRITICISM    OF    "IN   MEMORIAM."  401 

Tennyson's  "  In  Memoriam  "  is  the  talk  of  the  literary 
world.  Has  Montgomery  read  it  ?  He  replies : — "I  have 
read  the  poem  carefully,  I  should  say,  resolutely  through, 
which  I  suspect  not  ten  other  persons  in  Sheffield  have 
done ;  but  I  confess  I  cannot  enjoy  it.  The  title-page 
itself  is  an  affectation  of  unmeaning  simplicity,  so  much  so, 
indeed,  that  I,  who  was  not  otherwise  in  the  poet's  secret, 
was  some  time  before  I  could  make  out  his  subject  from 
the  opening  verses,  which,  while  they  flowed  as  smoothly 
and  brightly  as  transparent  oil  over  a  polished  surface, 
might  apply  to  a  butterfly,  or  a  bird,  or  a  lady,  as  well  as 
to  the  individual  who  I  found  after  a  while  was  indicated 
as  their  subject.  If  I  had  published  such  a  volume  forty 
years  ago,  Jeffrey  would  have  gone  down  on  both  knees  to 
curse  me  most  earnestly.  But  times  and  tastes  have 
altered,  and  Tennyson  is  the  pet  poet  of  the  day." 

A  few  days  after,  its  author  was  announced  as  Words- 
worth's successor  to  the  poet-laureateship. 

Thomas  Deakin,  Esq.,  of  Sheffield,  who  died  in  the 
month  of  August  in  the  preceding  year,  having  left  by 
will  the  sum  of  three  thousand  pounds  towards  the  found- 
ing of  a  charity  for  elderly  unmarried  women,  on  condition 
that  a  like  sum  of  three  thousand  pounds  should  be  raised 
by  others,  within  two  years  after  the  death  of  the  testator, 
Montgomery  willingly  joined  a  number  of  gentlemen  in  an 
effort  to  realize  this  benevolent  object.  He  also  took  part 
in  what  some  of  his  townspeople  regarded  as  a  more  ques- 
tionable proceeding,  namely,  in  calling,  and  seconding  a 
resolution  at,  an  anti-Catholic  meeting.  The  resolution, 
indeed,  was  simply  a  vote  expressive  of  gratitude  to  Lord 
John  Russell  for  his  recent  admirable  letter  to  the  Bishop 
of  Durham,  for  the  thoroughly  Protestant  spirit  which 
breathed  through  it ;  and  a  promise  of  support  to  his  lord- 


402  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

ship  in  all  his  endeavors  to  neutralize  the  aggressive  policy 
of  Rome.  The  proposition  was  objected  to  by  a  party  in 
the  meeting,  on  the  ground  of  its  inconsistency,  —  his 
lordship  having,  it  was  alleged,  previously  acted  in  such  a 
way  towards  the  Papists  as  might  well  encourage  them  to 
aggressions  like  those  complained  of;  nor  did  the  few 
words  used  by  Montgomery,  —  "I  second  the  resolution 
with  all  my  heart,"  —  escape  popular  censure.  The  subject 
coming  up  in  conversation  afterwards,  he  said,  that  while 
he  had  never  been  a  thorough-going  party-man,  and  had 
never  sought  or  expected  to  please  people  who  were  such, 
in  the  present  case,  as  he  had  entirely  agreed  with  Lord 
John  Russell  in  reference  to  the  necessity  if  not  in  the 
extent  of  Parliamentary  reform,  so  he  agreed  with  him 
generally  in  reference  to  Catholic  emancipation ;  but  he 
perfectly  agreed  with  him  in  his  present  protest  against  the 
recent  act  of  Papal  aggression. 

With  an  unabated  interest  in  every  public  work,  the 
talked  of  "  Great  Exhibition  of  the  Industry  of  all  Na- 
tions "  early  attracted  his  attention.  The  magnitude  of  the 
scheme,  at  first,  almost  awed  him ;  and  the  Crystal  Palace 
seemed  to  him  far  surpassing  all  the  dreams  of  poetry.  He 
read  with  avidity  the  details  of  its  progress  and  completion, 
and  more  and  more  regarding  the  exhibition  as  significant 
of  the  supremacy  of  the  peaceful,  and  therefore  the  true 
industries  of  the  world,  he  wept  for  joy  over  the  account 
of  its  inauguration,  splendor,  and  enthusiasm.  Overcoming 
the  timidity  and  feebleness  of  age,  he  determined  once 
more  to  revisit  London,  and  look  upon  this  wonder  of  the 
age.  Accompanied  by  Miss  Gales,  and  convoyed  by  his 
neighbor,  Mr.  Mitchell,  early  in  July,  1851,  an  easy  journey 
was  effected  to  the  metropolis.  His  brother  Robert's 
house  in  Woolwich  was  their  tarrying-place.     But  a  single 


TOKENS    OF    ESTEEM.  403 

visit  was  paid  to  the  Palace,  hardly  sufficient  for  a  passing 
glance  at  its  princely  galleries,  lined  with  the  skill  and 
produce  of  all  forms  of  Christian  civilization.  The  com- 
partment which  particularly  arrested  the  attention  of  the 
poet,  was  that  containing  printed  specimens  of  the  Scrip- 
tures in  one  hundred  and  sixty-five  different  languages. 

Renewed  expressions  of  personal  affection  greeted  him 
on  his  eightieth  birth-day.  On  entering  his  sitting-room 
that  morning,  an  elegant  easy-chair  of  carved  walnut  oc- 
cupied his  place,  and  what  was  to  him  of  more  value  than 
any  personal  luxury,  a  purse  of  fifty  sovereigns  for  the 
"  Moravian  Fund,"  and  sixty  sovereigns  for  the  "  Aged 
Female  Society  "  —  gifts  which  could  only  flow  from  the 
delicate  perceptions  and  Christian  sensibilities  of  wo- 
man. 

"  Thanks,  thanks,  thanks,"  exclaimed  the  venerable  old 
man ;  "  thrice  and  four  times  thanks  to  my  birth-day  bene- 
factors, for  their  precious  tokens  of  good-will  '  to  a  poor 
octogenarian.' 

"  i  Goodness  and  mercy  have  followed  me  all  the  days  of 
my  life,'  and  my  heart's  desire  and  prayer  is  that  I  may 
realize  the  fulfilment  of  the  verse,  '  to  dwell  in  the  house 
of  the  Lord  forever.'  " 

The  same  friends  induced  him  to  allow  an  artist  to  model 
his  likeness  in  profile  for  a  "  Montgomery  Medal,"  to  be 
given  annually  as  a  prize  for  the  best  drawing  or  casting  of 
wild  flowers  produced  by  a  pupil  in  the  Sheffield  "  Govern- 
ment School  of  Design." 

At  noon,  responding  to  a  request  which  had  been  made 
at  the  annual  meeting  of  Governors  of  the  General  In- 
firmary, Montgomery  planted  an  oak  tree  on  the  lawn  in 
front  of  the  noble  building ;  and  he  stood  there  the  sole 
survivor  of  all  its  founders  fifty  years  before. 


404  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

"  Montgomery  ought  to  become  expert  in  the  use  of  the 
spade,"  said  one  of  his  friends. 

At  the  annual  meeting  of  the  School  of  Design  the  fol- 
lowing year,  the  Duke  of  York  presiding,  the  revered  bard 
was  called  upon  to  present  the  prize  medal  to  the  success- 
ful competitor.  "This  public  compliment  is  a  testimony 
that  you  have  done  well,"  said  he  ;  "  always  do  your  best, 
then  you  are  sure  always  to  do  better." 

In  July,  he  appeared  for  the  last  time  as  a  public  lec- 
turer, before  the  Literary  and  Philosophical  Society,  with 
whose  origin  and  growth  he  was  so  closely  identified. 
Many  of  his  friends  felt  it  to  be  an  outlay  of  pain  he 
could  ill  afford,  but  many  wished  again  to  hear  him,  and 
to  a  repeated  invitation  he  hesitatingly  acquiesced. 

At  the  meeting  of  the  Methodist  Conference  held  in 
Sheffield  on  the  following  month,  though  no  laymen  were 
allowed  to  attend  its  sessions,  the  general  rule  was  in  this 
instance  set  aside,  and  Montgomery  received  and  accepted 
an  invitation  to  be  present,  introduced  by  Dr.  Hannah  as  a 
"  venerable  friend  to  whom  Methodism  was  under  great 
obligations."  The  services  which  they,  as  a  religious  body, 
had  received  from  him  having  been  gratefully  acknowl- 
edged by  the  President,  their  distinguished  visitor  arose 
and,  with  patriarchal  simplicity,  replied  with  deep  emotion, 
"  I  have  little  to  say,  Christian  fathers,  friends  and  brethren, 
but  that  little,  so  important  in  itself,  I  utter  from  my  heart. 
1  The  Lord  bless  and  keep  you  !  The  Lord  make  his  face 
to  shine  upon  you,  and  be  gracious  unto  you !  The  Lord 
lift  up  his  countenance  upon  you  and  give  you  peace ! '  in 
the  name  of  Jesus.     Amen." 

"No  incident,"  says  Dr.  Bunting,  "more  tended  to 
brighten  and  beautify  the  Conference  of  1852  ;"  for,  as 
another  preacher  said,  "even  the  venerable  men  present, 


RELIGION    OF    GRAY'S   ELEGY.  405 

who  had  been  the  contemporaries  of  Wesley  himself, 
seemed  to  be  in  the  presence  of  an  elder,  when  Mont- 
gomery, a  member  of  the  ancient  Moravian  Church,  blessed 
the  Conference,  and  the  'People  called  Methodists,'  with 
the  blessing  wherewith  Aaron  and  his  sons  blessed  the 
children  of  Israel." 

In  December,  the  Earl  of  Carlisle  delivered  before  the 
Mechanics'  Institution  a  lecture  on  the  Poetry  of  Gray,  and 
though  Montgomery  had  long  ceased  to  attend  evening 
meetings,  he  was  present  on  this  occasion.  Preceding  the 
Earl  to  the  platform,  he  was  greeted  with  applause  scarcely 
less  enthusiastic  than  the  welcome  given  to  the  lecturer,  —  a 
right  hearty  burst  of  English  appreciation  of  her  true  men. 
The  glowing  expression  of  the  old  poet's  face  disclosed  his 
interest  in  the  lecture,  his  own  views  harmonizing  with 
those  of  the  speaker,  in  everything  except  that  which  related 
to  the  religious  element  of  Gray's  poetry  and  character. 

Montgomery,  in  his  introductory  essay  to  the  Christian 
JPoet,  has  already  asked  and  answered  an  impartial  question 
in  reference  to  it : 

"  What  God  is  intended  in  the  last  line  of  the  Elegy, 
'  The  bosom  of  his  father  and  his  God  ?'  "  he  inquires. 
"  Search  every  fragment  of  the  writings  of  the  celebrated 
author,  and  it  will  be  difficult  to  answer  this  question, 
simple  as  it  is,  from  them  ;  from  the  Elegy  itself  it  would 
be  impossible ;  except  that  the  God  of  the  '  Youth  to  for- 
tune and  to  fame  unknown '  is  meant ;  and  that  this  may 
have  been  the  true  God,  must  be  inferred  from  his  worship- 
per having  been  buried  'in  a  country  church-yard.'  There 
is,  indeed,  a  couplet  like  the  following,  in  the  body  of 
the  poem : 

" '  And  many  a  holy  text  around  she  strews, 
To  teach  the  rustic  moralist  to  die,' 


406  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

but  throughout  the  whole  there  is  not  a  single  allusion  to 
1  an  hereafter,'  except  what  may  be  inferred,  by  courtesy, 
from  the  concluding  line  already  mentioned.  After  the 
couplet  above  quoted,  the  poet  leaves  his  '  rustic  moralist 
to  die,'  and  very  pathetically  refers  to  the  natural  unwilling- 
ness of  the  humblest  individual  to  be  forgotten,  and  the 
4  longing,  lingering  look,'  which  even  the  miserable  cast 
behind,  on  leaving  '  the  warm  precincts  of  the  cheerful 
day ;'  but  hope  nor  fear,  doubt  nor  faith,  concerning  a 
future  state,  seems  ever  to  have  touched  the  poet's  ap- 
prehensions, exquisitely  affected  as  he  must  have  been  with 
all  that  interests  '  mortal  man '  in  the  composition  of  those 
unrivalled  stanzas;  —  unrivalled  truly  they  are,  though 
there  is  not  an  idea  in  them  beyond  the  church-yard,  in 
which  they  are  said  to  have  been  written." 

On  the  first  of  February,  1853,  appeared  "Original 
Hymns  for  Public,  Social,  and  Private  Devotion,  by  James 
Montgomery : "  with  the  following  verse  from  one  of  them, 
as  a  motto,  on  the  title  page : 

"  From  young  and  old,  with  every  breath, 
Let  prayer  and  praise  arise ; 
Life  be  '  the  daily  offering]  —  death 
'  The  evening  sacrifice?  " 

In  the  preface,  the  author  adverts  to  the  extent  to  which 
his  compositions  of  this  class  have  been  appropriated  by 
compilers ;  adding,  that  "  of  this  he  has  never  complained, 
being  rather  humbly  thankful  that  any  imperfect  strains  of 
his  should  be  thus  employed  in  giving  glory  to  God  in  the 
highest,  promoting  on  earth  peace,  and  diffusing  good- will 
towards  man."  But  of  the  liberties  taken  by  some  of  these 
in  modifying  certain  passages  according  to  their  peculiar 
tastes  and  notions,  he  must  complain ;  very  properly  sug- 


LETTER  FROM  LUCY  AIKIN.        407 

gesting  to  such,  that  if  they  cannot  "  conscientiously  adopt 
his  diction  and  doctrine,  it  is  surely  unreasonable  in  them 
to  impose  upon  him  theirs,  which  he  might  as  honestly 
hesitate  to  receive."  He  closes  what  he  calls  this  "  lomr 
preamble  to  the  most  serious  work  of  a  long  life  —  now 
passing  four-score  years  "  —  with  the  following  appropriate 
lines  from  Bishop  Ken  : 

"  And  should  the  well-meant  song  I  leave  behind, 
With  Jesus'  lovers  some  acceptance  find, 
'Twill  heighten  even  the  joys  of  heaven  to  know 
That  in  my  verse  saints  sung  God's  praise  below." 

Lucy  Aikin,  to  whom  he  sent  a  volume,  thus  pleasantly 
acknowledges  it : 

"  Dear  Friend, 

"  Many  thanks  to  you  for  your  kind  present  of  your 
volume  of  Hymns.  They  were  very  agreeable  and  accept- 
able to  me,  not  alone  as  a  proof  of  your  never-failing  re- 
membrance and  friendship,  but  for  their  own  merits.  I 
tell  you  the  simplest  truth  in  saying,  that  I  regard  you  as 
quite  at  the  head  of  all  living  writers  of  this  kind  of  poetry 
within  my  knowledge.  Your  hymns  have  an  earnestness, 
a  fervor  of  piety,  and  an  unmistakeable  sincerity  which 
goes  straight  to  the  heart.  In  the  style,  too,  you  are  per- 
fectly successful,  and  it  is  one  in  which  few  are  masters. 
Clear,  direct,  simple,  plain  to  the  humblest  member  of  a 
congregation,  yet  glowing  with  poetic  fire,  and  steeped  in 
Scripture :  not  in  its  peculiar  phrases  so  much,  which  might 
give  an  air  of  quaintness,  as  filled  with  its  spirit,  and  with 
allusions  to  its  characters  and  incidents  often  extremely 
happy,  and  what  might  well  be  called  ingenious.  My 
father  would  not  have  forgotten  to  add  a  merit  to  which 


408  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

he  was  extremely  sensible,  as  indeed  am  I  —  that  the  lines 
flow  very  harmoniously,  and  are  richly  rhymed  —  with 
their  full  complement  of  two  to  a  stanza.  This  is  an  aid  to 
the  memory  as  well  as  the  immediate  effect.  I  rejoice  that 
you  lend  your  powerful  support  to  the  anti-Calvinistio 
theology,  and  strenuously  inculcate  that  every  man  may  be 
saved  if  he  pleases. 

"  Although  you  may  think  it  right  to  bridle  your  indig- 
nation against  the  interpolators  of  your  Hymns,  there  is  no 
reason  I  should  :  and  I  do  not.  It  is  an  intolerable  fraud 
—  worse  by  far  than  forging  one's  name  to  a  cheque  ;  and 
nothing,  I  suppose,  but  the  paucity  of  really  good  hymns 
which  speak  exactly  the  language  of  this  or  that  compiler 
for  a  congregation,  could  have  tempted  decent  j:>eople  to  be 
guilty  of  it.  Poor  Dr.  Watts  has  been  victimized  to  such 
an  extent  in  this  manner  for  a  century  past,  that  I  have 
been  told  a  genuine  Watts  is  now  a  curiosity  scarcely  any- 
where to  be  met  with.  Better  fate  be  yours ;  but  I  dare 
not  promise  it  you,  if  you  will  write  so  well,  and  enounce 
your  doctrines  with  so  much  point  and  force,  instead  of 
dwelling  in  neutral  generalities,  equally  suited  to  all  sects 
of  Christians. 

"Are  you  aware  that  I  have  again  taken  up  my  abode 
in  the  old  spot  where  we  saw  each  other's  face  for  the  last 
time,  doubtless,  in  this  world  ?  Yes  ;  last  Christmas 
twelve  month,  I  quitted  Wimbledon  wTith  my  niece  and  her 
family,  after  what  had  been  to  me  a  five  years'  sojourn  in  a 
strange  place,  and  came  with  them  to  dear  old  Hampstead, 
where  I  have  a  few  friends  and  relations  still  remaining, 
whose  society  is  worth  far  more  to  me  than  the  most 
splendid  new  acquaintances  could  possibly  be.  One  dear 
brother,  my  eldest,  is  still  left  me;  and  we  are  but  three 
miles  apart.     Here  I  am  in  the  midst  of  an  amiable  young 


HIS     LAST    HYMNS.  409 

family,  to  whom  I  feel  myself  almost  a  grandmamma. 
Many,  many  blessings  to  be  thankful  for  at  the  age  of 
seventy-one  !  Of  your  health  I  have  lately  heard  good 
tidings.  Long  may  it  continue  !  Believe  me  ever,  dear 
and  respected  friend,  yours  most  sincerely, 

"  Lucy  Aikix. 

"  Hampstead,  February  13,  1853." 

The  year  1854  broke  stormily  over  England.  The  sever- 
ity and  length  of  the  cold,  kept  all  prudent  invalids  within 
doors,  and.  especially  barred,  the  aged,  from  their  accus- 
tomed out-door  air  and  exercise.  Montgomery  imprisoned 
himself  for  many  weeks,  and.  went  out  but  seldom,  until 
longer  days  gave  promise  of  warmer  weather. 

Tardy  spring  at  last  threw  its  emerald  folds  over  the 
fields,  and  the  poet  again  went  forth  rejoicing  in  the  joy  of 
beautiful  and  well-created  things. 

His  friends  marked  an  increasing  feebleness  of  body, 
while  the  mind,  with  occasionally  a  slight  failure  of  memory, 
retained  its  wonted  relish  for  books,  conversation,  and  all 
the  stirring  incidents  of  the  times.  His  correspondence 
had  flagged;  the  hand,  not  the  heart,  rendering  unwil- 
ling obedience  to  the  monitions  of  friendship  or  of  poetry. 

Two  hymns,  composed  in  April,  were,  "  the  last  fruit 
off  an  old  tree ;"  one  to  gratify  a  friend,  and  the  other  for 
the  "  little  ones  "  of  the  Sunday-school  Union,  an  evangel- 
ical alliance  always  dear  to  the  poet's  heart. 

Easter,  a  high  festival  among  the  Moravians,  Montgom- 
ery designed  to  spend  at  Fulneck.  Instead  of  going,  how- 
ever, he  despatched  a  letter,  excusing  his  absence.  It  was 
addressed  to  his  favorite  niece  Harriet,  now  Mrs.  Mallalien, 
who  says : 

"  My  dear  uncle  frequently  spent  part  of  the  Passion 
'3o 


410  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

Week  and  Easter  with  us,  both  at  Ockbrook  and  Fulneck. 
I  heard  from  him  very  early  in  April ;  and  his  last  letter  to 
me  was  dated  on  the  12th,  not  mueh  more  than  a  fortnight 
before  he  left  his  earthly  for  his  heavenly  home.  I  was 
looking  at  his  letter  last  night,  and  cannot  help  transcribing 
a  sentence  or  two  from  it.     He  says : 

"  '  To-morrow,  had  I  been  free  from  hindrance  otherwise 
than  personal,  I  should  have  indeed  been  happy  to  have 
made  an  Easter  campaign  to  the  scene  of  my  childhood, 
and  the  best  days  of  my  youth  :  to  live  the  latter  over 
again  ;  and  especially  to  spend  another  Maundy  Thursday, 
which  then  was  (I  may  frankly  own  it)  to  me  the  happiest 
day  in  the  year :  the  evening  reading  in  the  chapel,  of  our 
Saviour's  agony  and  bloody  sweat  in  the  Garden  of  Geth- 
semane,  was  almost  always  a  season  of  holy  humbling  and 
affecting  sympathy  of  my  soul  with  His,  who  then  was 
wont  to  make  His  presence  felt.  And  on  Good  Friday, 
Great  Sabbath,  and  Easter  Sunday,  each  had  its  peculiar 
visits  in  spirit,  and  of  these  the  remembrance  is  sweet  and 
consoling  ;  and  even  yet,  after  so  many  years  of  estrange- 
ment and  unfaithfulness  on  my  part,  since  I  chose  my  poiv 
tion  for  myself  in  the  world,  rather  than  in  my  Father's 
house  and  among  my  Christian  brethren,  I  can  sa}r, — 
"  Bless  the  Lord,  O  my  soul,  and  forget  not  all  his  bene- 
fits !  "  —  hoping,  praying,  and  earnestly  desiring  that  I  may 
yet  add  the  context  —  (Ps.  ciii.  3,  4,)  "  Who  forgiveth  all 
thine  iniquities;  who  healeth  all  thy  diseases;  who  re- 
deemeth  thy  life  from  destruction  ;  who  crowneth  thee 
with  loving-kindness  and  tender  mercies."  '  Then  he  adds, 
with  all  his  own  warmth  of  affection,  c  Now  my  dear,  dear 
Harriet,  may  you  and  your  children,  and  your  best  of 
mothers,  ever,  ever  be  enabled  to  offer  such  thanksgivings 
daily  and  to  the  end.' 


THE    CLOSING    SCENE.  411 

"  I  do  value  that  letter,  written  so  shortly  before  his 
death.  The  season  of  the  year  coming  round  again  [Easter, 
1855],  too,  has  made  the  last  year  dwell  much  on  my  mind  ; 
so  fondly  had  my  dear  mother  and  I  hoped  to  have  seen 
uncle  here ;  and  now  they  have  both  joined  the  Church 
Triumphant !  " 

For,  the  places  which  knew  him  so  intimately  and  so 
long,  were  soon  to  know  him  no  more. 

On  the  last  Friday  in  April  he  attended  as  usual  the 
weekly  board-meeting  of  the  Infirmary,  of  which,  for 
many  years  he  had  been  chairman  ;  and  on  Saturday  after- 
noon called  upon  Mr.  Holland  at  his  office  in  the  Music 
Hall.  To  an  inquiry  about  his  health,  "  I  feel  considerable 
oppression  Aere,"  he  answered,  laying  his  hand  on  his  breast 
—  and  a  shade  of  more  than  usual  thoughtfulness  rested 
upon  his  countenance. 

At  evening  worship,  he  requested  Miss  Gales  to  read 
the  Scriptures,  when  he  led  the  devotional  service  with  an 
earnestness  and  pathos  which  excited  the  attention  of  the 
family.  No  complaint,  however,  fell  from  his  lips,  and  he 
retired  as  usual  with  nothing  to  indicate  that  this  was  his 
last  "  good  night." 

Sabbath  morning  dawned,  and  at  eight  one  of  the  serv- 
ants knocked  at  his  door,  but  receiving  no  answer,  she 
opened  it  and  saw  her  master  insensible  on  the  floor. 

The  family  were  soon  aroused,  and  assistance  speedily 
came,  and  he  was  returned  to  his  bed,  while  consciousness 
seemed  flitting  back. 

A  physician  was  summoned,  and  the  patient  rallied,  so  rap- 
idly, indeed,  that  everything  promised  a  speedy  restoration. 

As  Miss  Gales  sat  and  watched  at  his  bedside  during  the 
afternoon,  a  sudden  change  came  over  his  face.  He  seemed 
to  have  been  sleeping  — ■ 


412  LIFE    OF    MONTGOMERY. 

"No  —  life  had  sweetly  ceased  to  be  : 
It  lapsed  in  immortality  ;" 

and  soon  the  solemn  tolling  of  the  church-bell  spread  the 
tidings  round  that  Sheffield  had  lost  its  most  beloved  and 
distinguished  citizen.  A  great  and  good  man  had  fallen. 
It  was  the  30th  of  April,  1854. 

The  funeral  took  place  on  the  11th  of  May,  amidst  such 
demonstrations  of  respect  as  were  never  paid  to  any  indi- 
vidual in  Sheffield  before.  The  shops  were  generally 
closed.  Manufactories  and  other  places  of  business  were 
deserted.  The  houses  showed  signs  of  mourning.  Along 
the  route  of  procession,  the  house-tops  and  windows,  and 
the  sides  of  the  streets,  were  filled  with  respectful  specta- 
tors. Great  numbers  of  people  were  upon  the  parish  and 
St.  Paul's  churches,  in  the  church-yards,  and  on  every  eleva- 
tion that  commanded  a  view  of  the  route. 

The  following  was  the  order  of  the  procession,  and  of 
the  proceedings  at  the  place  of  interment : 

Mounted  Police. 
Two  Mutes. 
Deputations  from  the  Committees  and  Managers  of  the  Church  of 
England  Instruction  Society ;  the  Sheffield  Mechanics'  Library ;  the 
Athenaeum ;  the  Lyceum ;  the  Red  Hill  Schools ;  Sunday-school 
Union  ;  Lancasterian  Schools ;  People's  College ;  Government  School 
of  Design  ;  Rotherham  College ;  Sheffield  Library  ;  Literary  and 
Philosophical  Society. 

Gentlemen  of  the  Town  and  Neighborhood  in  Carriages ; 

Managers  of  the  Savings'  Bank ; 

Committee  and  Medical  Officers  of  the  Sheffield  Public  Dispensary ; 

Managers  of  the  Aged  Female  Society ; 

Directors  of  the  United  Gas-Light  Company ; 

Board  of  Guardians  for  Sheffield  ; 

The  Weekly  Board  and  Medical  Officers  of  the  Sheffield  General 

Infirmary ; 


ORDER   OF   FUNERAL   PROCESSION.  413 

The  Police  Commissioners ; 

The  Ecclesall  Highway  Board ; 

The  Board  of  Highways  for  the  Township  of  Sheffield  ; 

Dissenting  Ministers ; 

Wesleyan  Ministers ; 

The  Church  Burgesses ; 

The  Town  Regent,  and  Trustees ; 

The  Master  Cutler  (W.  A.  Matthews,  Esq.),  and  Company ; 

Bishop  and  Ministers  of  the  Church  of  the  United  Brethren ; 

The  Vicar  of  Sheffield  and  twenty-four  of  the  Clergy ; 

Officers  of  the  West  Riding  Yeomanry ; 

Coroner  and  Deputy  Coroner  for  the  District : 

The  Magistrates  for  the  Borough  ; 

The  Magistrates  for  the  West  Riding; 

Clerk  to  the  Magistrates ; 

The  Judge  and  Treasurer  of  the  County  Court ; 

The  Mayor,  (Francis  Hoole,  Esq.,  attended  by  Mr.  Raynor,  Chief 

Constable,)  and  Corporation ; 

G.  Hadfield,  Esq.,  M.P.  for  Sheffield  ; 

The  Funeral  Committee ; 

William  Favell,  Esq.,  Surgeon  to  the  Deceased ; 

Thomas  Gould,  Esq.,  Solicitor  to  the  Deceased ; 

PALL-BEARERS.  PALL-BEARERS. 

Rev.  H.  Farish.  Rev.  Thomas  Best. 

Rev.  Jas.  Methley.  THE  BODY,  Rev.  S.  D.  Waddy. 

Rev.  C.  Larom.  In  a  hearse  drawn  Rev.  J.  H.  Muir. 

Saml.  Roberts,  Esq.  by  six  horses.  Samuel  Baily,  Esq. 

Four  Mourning  Coaches; 

In  the  first  coach,  Robert  Montgomery,  of  Woolwich,  brother  of  the 

deceased ;  the  Rev.  John  James  Montgomery,  Miss  Gales, 

and  Mrs.  Foster,  niece  of  the  deceased ; 

Second  coach,  Mrs.  Mallalicn,  niece  of  the  deceased ;  Mrs.  John 

James  Montgomery,  Mr.  John  Holland,  and  the 

Rev.  W.  Mercer ; 

Third  and  fourth  coaches,  the  Pall-Bearers.     Each  coach  was  drawn 

by  four  horses ; 
'So*  J 


414  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

Gentlemen  of  the  Town  and  Neighborhood  on  foot ; 

Deputation  of  the  Montgomery  Sick  Society , 

Deputation  of  Scripture  Readers ; 

Masters  of  Wesley  College ; 

Twenty  Gownsmen  and  one  hundred  of  the  Scholars  of 

Wesley  College ; 

Pupils  of  Dr.  Munro's  School , 

Gentlemen  of  the  Town  and  Neighborhood  on  horseback , 

Mounted  Police. 

About  an  hour  elapsed  from  the  arrival  of  the  first  part 
of  the  procession  at  the  gates  of  the  cemetery  before  the 
hearse,  with  its  attendants,  reached  the  consecrated  enclo- 
sure, where  the  coffin  was  taken  out  of  the  hearse,  and  the 
pall-bearers  assumed  their  places ;  the  vicar  in  his  gown, 
and  the  Rev.  George  Sandford  in  his  surplice,  preceding  the 
solemn  cortege  up  the  avenue,  and  through  the  winding 
roads  of  the  cemetery.  It  had  been  arranged  to  admit  ladies 
into  the  cemetery  ground  at  an  early  hour  in  the  forenoon, 
and  they  formed  its  principal  occupants  when  the  funeral  en- 
tered. But  crowds  of  spectators  were  to  be  seen  at  all  the 
adjacent  points  commanding  a  view  of  the  ground ;  and  on 
the  hill-side,  across  the  valley,  were  hundreds  of  observers. 
When  the  procession  had  entered,  the  gates  were  opened  to 
the  public,  and  a  dense^  assemblage  quickly  filled  the  ground. 
The  favorable  state  of  the  weather  permitted  the  wThole  of 
the  burial  service  to  be  performed  in  the  open  air ;  the  Rev. 
T.  Sale,  M.A.,  the  vicar,  and  the  Rev.  G.  Sandford,  M.A., 
the  chaplain  of  the  cemetery,  officiating.  At  its  conclusion, 
the  vicar  said  :  "  Having  committed  the  body  of  our  dear 
brother  to  the  grave,  in  the  full  belief  of  his  triumphant 
resurrection,  let  us  sing  over  his  grave  one  of  those  hymns 
which  in  past  days  he  composed  for  one  gone  before  him :  * 

*  Dr.  Owen,  Secretary  of  the  Bible  Society,  who  died  1822. 


HIS  FUNERAL  HYMN.  415 

"  '  Go  to  the  grave ;  though,  like  a  fallen  tree, 

At  once  with  verdure,  flowers,  and  fruitage  crowned, 
Thy  form  may  perish,  and  thine  honors  be 

Lost  in  the  mouldering  bosom  of  the  ground ;  — 

" '  Go  to  the  grave,  which,  faithful  to  its  trust, 
The  germ  of  immortality  shall  keep ; 
While  safe,  as  watched  by  cherubim,  thy  dust 
Shall,  till  the  judgment-day,  in  Jesus  sleep. 

"  '  Go  to  the  grave,  for  there  thy  Saviour  lay 
In  Death's  embraces,  ere  He  rose  on  high ; 
And  all  the  ransomed,  by  that  narrow  way, 
Pass  to  eternal  life  beyond  the  sky. 

"  l  Go  to  the  grave ;  —  no,  take  thy  seat  above ; 
Be  thy  pure  spirit  present  with  the  Lord, 
Where  thou,  for  faith  and  hope,  hast  perfect  love, 
And  open  vision  for  the  written  Word.'  " 

After  the  retirement  of  the  mourners,  hundreds  of  per- 
sons crowded  round  the  grave  to  take  a  farewell  look  at 
the  coffin,  of  plain  oak,  with  a  silvered  plate  bearing  the 
following  inscription  : 

James  Montgomery, 

Died  April  the  30th,  1854, 

In  the  83rd  year  of  his  Age. 

Montgomery  left  an  estate  of  £9,000.  Generous  legacies 
were  willed  to  several  Moravian  institutions  and  city  char- 
ities. But  dear  friends  were  not  forgotten,  and  the  re- 
mainder was  equally  shared  between  the  two  families  of 
his  brothers. 

Thus  peacefully  closed  a  long  and  useful  life.  Changes, 
almost  marvellous,  took  place  within  its  more  than  four- 
score years.  The  American  colonies  had  broken  from  the 
parent  stock  and  grown  to  a   mighty  nation.      England 


410  LIFE    OF   MONTGOMERY. 

had  had  her  Foxes,  Pitts,  and  Wellingtons.  Steam  had 
changed  rough  Atlantic  voyages  into  holiday  trips.  Lum- 
bering mail-coaches  were  outrun  by  the  furious  drive  of 
the  fiery  horse.  Gas  had  left  the  laboratory  of  the  chemist 
and  become  drilled  to  nightly  service.  The  wildest  freaks  of 
electricity  had  entered  into  the  soberest  calculations  of  busi- 
ness. Protestant  Christianity  burst  forth  with  new  power. 
Its  agencies  had  spanned  the  world.  The  Bible,  with  its 
sturdy  vitality,  became  the  recognized  civilizer  of  man. 
Missionary  institutions  grew  into  a  commercial  value.  And 
all  around,  the  common  industries  of  life  are  vigorous  and 
gainful  only  as  they  are  nourished  by  the  redeeming  influ- 
ences of  the  gospel. 

With  the  religious  progress  of  his  time,  Montgomery 
identified  himself.  Life  was  an  earnest  and  responsible 
work  with  him.  He  had  something  to  do  for  the  moral  ren- 
ovation of  others,  and  his  heart  was  in  doing  it.  England 
and  the  world  are  better  that  he  and  such  men  have  lived. 

His  piety  embalms  his  genius.  And  long  after  prouder 
literary  achievements  shall  have  been  buried  in  the  dust  of 
the  Past,  his  simple  hymns  will  linger  on  the  lip  of  devo- 
tion, and  nestle  in  the  loving  hearts  of  believers  from  the 
Moravian  altars  of  Herrnhut  to  the  "  forest  sanctuaries " 
of  the  tropics. 

The  worth  of  a  Christian  life,  time  cannot  diminish,  and 
nothing  can  destroy.  It  has  an  imperishable  value  in  the 
treasury  of  that  Kingdom  which  will  finally  swallow  up 
all  the  powers  and  principalities  of  earth. 


THE     END. 


VALUABLE    WORKS 

PUBLISHED     BY 

GOULD   AND    LINCOLN, 

59  WASHINGTON   STRBET,  BOSTON. 


SACRED  RHETORIC:  Or,  Composition  and  Delivery  of  Sermons. 
By  Henry  J.  Ripley,  Prof,  in  Newton  Theological  Institution.  Including  Ware's 
Hints  on  Extemporaneous  Preaching.     Second  thousand.     12mo,  75  cts. 

An  admirable  work,  clear  and  succint  in  its  positions  and  recommendations,  soundly  based  on  good 
authority,  and  well  supported  by  a  variety  of  reading  and  illustrations.—  A'.  Y.  Literary  World. 

"We  have  looked  over  this  work  with  a  lively  interest.  The  arrangement  is  easy  and  natural,  and 
the  selection  of  thoughts  under  each  topic  very  happy.  The  work  is  one  that  will  command  readers. 
It  is  a  comprehensive  manual  of  great  practical  utility.  —  rial.  Ch.  Chronicle. 

The  author  contemplates  a  man  preparing  to  compose  a  discourse  to  promote  the  ereat  ends  of 
preaching,  and  unfolds  to  him  the  process  through  which  his  mind  ought  to  pass.  We  commend  the 
•  work  to  ministers,  and  to  those  preparing  for  the  sacred  office,  as  a  book  that  will  efficiently  aid  them 
in  studying  thoroughly  the  subject  it  brings  before  them.—  Phil.  Ch.  Observer. 

It  presents  a  rich  variety  of  rules  for  the  practical  use  of  the  clergyman,  and  evinces  the  good  sense, 
the  large  experience,  and  th°  excellent  spiri  of  Dr.  Ripley  :  and  the  whole  volume  is  well  fitted  to 
instruct  and  stimulate  the  writer  of  sermons.  —  Bihliotheca  Sacra. 

An  excellent  work  is  hert  offered  to  theological  students  and  clergymen.  It  is  not  a  compilation, 
but  is  an  original  treatise,  f  esh,  practical,  and  comprehensive,  and  adapted  to  the  pulpit  offices  of  the 
present  day.    It  is  full  of  valuable  suggestions,  and  abounds  with  clear  illustrations.  —  Zion's  Herald. 

It  cannot  be  too  frequei' ly  perused  by  those  whose  duty  it  is  to  persuade  men.-    Congregationalist. 

Prof.  Ripley  possesses  'lie  highest  qualifications  for  a  work  of  this  kind.  His  position  has  given 
him  great  experience  in  ifte  peculiar  wants  of  theological  students.  —  Providence  Journal. 

His  canons  on  selecting  texts,  stating  the  proposition,  collecting  and  arranging  materiais,  style,  de- 
livery, etc.,  are  just  ana  Well  stated.  Every  theological  student  to  whom  this  volume  is  accessible 
will  be  likely  to  procure  '♦»  —  Christian  Mirror,  Portland. 

It  is  manifestly  the  fru  *  Of  mature  thought  and  lanre  observation  ;  it  is  nervaded  by  a  manly  tone, 
and  abounds  in  judicious  xrmsels;  it  is  compactly  written  and  admirably  arranged,  both  for  study 
and  reference.  It  will  b~Cv>n, ""  a  text  Dook  for  theological  students,  wc  have  no  doubt :  that  it  deserves 
to  be  read  by  all  ministers  L  h.  us  as  clear.  —  N.  Y.  Recorder. 

THE  CHRISTIAN  V^ORLD  UNMASKED.  By  John  Berridgk, 
A  M.,  Vicar  of  Everton,  Beu^rtHiire,  Chaplain  to  the  Right  Hon.  1  he  Earl  of  Buchan, 
etc.  JVfete  Edition.  With  Life  ->f  th°  Author,  by  the  Rev.  Thomas  Guthrie,  D.  D., 
Minister  of  Free  St.  John's,  EJinburoh.     16mo,  cloth,  50  cts. 

"The  hook,"  says  Drt.  Gvtiirie,  hi  ,iis  Intrr*4uct!on,  "which  we  introduce  anew  to  the  public, 
has  survived  the  test  of  years,  and  still  stanoj  towering  above  things  of  inferior  growth  like  a  cedar  of 
Lclv.iion.  Its  subject  is  all  important ;  in  doctrine  it  is  sc  nd  to  the  core;  it  glows  with  fervent  piety  ; 
it  exhibits  n  most  skilful  and  unsparing  dissection  of  the  c.eivd  urofessor;  while  its  style  is  so  remark- 
able that  he  who  could  preach  as  Berridge  bus  written,  would  hold  any  congregation  by  the  ears." 

THE  SIGNET  RING,  and  Its  Heavenly  Motto.  Translated  from  the 
German.     Illustrated.     16mo,  cloth,  31  cents. 

I33T-  This  little  work  is  a  polished  gem  of  sparkling  brilliancy.  Seldom  within  so  small  a  compass 
has  such  weighty  teaching  been  presented  with  such  exquisite  and  charming  skill. 

Clergymen,  ami  all  who  make  "essays  to  do  good,"  are  particularly  invited  to  examine  it.  Benev- 
olent persons,  who,  like  Amos  Lawrence,  make  it  their  pleasure  to  give  away  useful  books  by  the 
quantity,  will  find  this,  from  its  small  size,  small  price,  intrinsic  value,  and  attractive  style,  specially 
adapted  to  their  purpose.  (A.a) 


A  "WREATH  AROUND  THE  CROSS; 

Or  Scripture  Truths  Illustrated.  By  the  Rev.  A.  Morton  Broavn,  D.  D. 
Willi  a  Recommendatory  Preface,  by  John  Asgell  James.  With  beautiful  Fron- 
tispiece,    lu'mo,  cloth,  GO  cts. 

C3~  This  is  a  very  interesting  and  valuable  book,  and  should  be  in  every  house  in  the  land.  Its  great 
excellence  is,  it  magnifies  the  cross  of  Christ.  It  presents  the  following  interesting  subjects:  "The 
Cross  needed;  'Die  Way  to  the  Cross;  The  Cross  set  up;  The  sufferings  of  the  Cross  Mediation  by 
the  Cross ;  Life  from  the  Cross  :  Faith  in  the  Cross;  Submission  to  the  Cross  ;  Glorying  in  the  Cross ; 
The  Cross  and  the  Crown."    No  better  book  can  be  put  into  the  hands  of  "  inquirers  after  truth. ' 

This  is  a  beautiful  volume,  defending  and  illustrating  the  precious  truths  which  cluster  around  the 
atonement.    These  truths  are  set  forth  in  a  lively  and  popular  style.  —  Phil.  Ch.  Chronicle. 

May  it  find  its  way  into  every  Christian  family,  and  be  read  by  every  member.  —  Ch.  Secretary. 

The  theme  is  the  centre  of  all  evangelical  religion,  both  doctrinal  and  experimental.  It  is  the  ex- 
cellence of  this  work,  that  it  keeps  so  constantly  in  view  this  grand  instrument  of  salvation,  that  it 
might  have  been  entitled  a  "walk,"  as  well  as  a  "wreath,"  around  the  Cross.  —  Religious  Herald 

"  Christ,  and  Him  crucified,"  is  presented  in  a  new,  striking,  and  matter-of-fact  light.  The  style  ia 
simple,  without  being  puerile,  and  the  reasoning  is  of  that  truthful,  persuasive  kind  that  "  comes  from 
the  heart,  and  reaches  the  heart."  We  wish  this  Christian  classic  a  wide  circulation,  hoping  that 
many,  under  its  direction  and  influence,  may  be  found  "  looking  unto  Jesus."—  N.  Y.  Observer- 

A  highly-approved  work,  issued  in  elegant  style.  The  author  presents  the  most  important  doc- 
trines of  our  holy  religion,  in  a  form  not  only  intelligible,  but  in  attractive  lights,  adapted  to  allure  the 
eye  of  faith,  and  hope,  and  love,  to  the  glorious  objects  revealed  in  the  gospel.— Phil.  Ch.  Jbscrver. 

PHILOSOPHY  OP  TIPE  PLAX  OF  SALVATION ;  a  Book  for  the 
Times.  By  an  American  Citizen.  An  Introductory  Essay,  By  Calvin  E. 
Stowe,  D.D.  lew  Edition,  Revised,  and  Enlarged  toy  the  addition 
of  a  new  Chapter.     12rno,  cloth,  75  cents. 

*  »*  This  is  one  of  the  best  books  in  the  English  language.  The  work  has  been  translated  into  sev- 
eral  different  languages  in  Europe.  It  has  been  republished  by  the  London  Tract  Society,  and  also 
adopted  as  one  of  the  volumes  of  "  Ward's  Library  of  Standard  Divinity,"  edited  by  Drs.  John  Har- 
ris, J.  Pye  Smith,  and  others.    A  capital  book  to  circulate  among  young  men. 

One  of  the  most  original  and  valuable  works  of  recent  publication.  —  JT.  Y.  Christian  Intelligencer 

A  useful  book,  written  with  great  spirit  and  point.  —  Phil.  Presbyterian. 

In  many  respeets,  this  is  a  remarkable  book.  —  X.  Y.  Observer. 

We  have  expressed  our  decided  opinion  as  to  the  exalted  merits  of  this  transatlantic  essay  on  the 
truth  of  the  Gospel.  We  think  it  is  more  likely  to  lodge  an  impression  in  the  human  conscience,  in 
favor  of  the  divine  authority  of  Christianity,  than  any  work  of  the  modern  press,  as  it  seeks  an  avenue 
to  the  human  heart  somewhat  different  from  the  ordinary  mode  of  approaching  it.  —London  Meth.  Mag. 

It  is  logical,  both  in  its  arrangement  and  in  its  reasonings.  It  is  the  work  of  a  clear  and  vigorous 
thinker  It  proposes  to  solve  these  two  questions,  —  Is  Christianity  true  f  and,  What  is  true  Chris- 
tianityt  Tew  volumes  have  issued  from  the  American  press  that  bear  the  stamp  of  originality  and 
profound  thought  so  deeply  imprinted  on  every  page.—  Puritan  Rec. 

This  is  really  an  original  book.  Every  sentence  is  pregnant  with  thought,  and  every  idea  con- 
duces to  the  main  demonstration.  The  various  paragraphs  are  bound  together  as  closely  as  the  suc- 
cessive steps  of  a  mathematical  argument.  At  the  same  time,  neither  abstruseness  vails  the  method, 
nor  subtilty  polishes  away  the  power  of  the  reasonings  employed.  Its  conclusions  come  home  with 
certainty  to  the  business  and  bosom"  of  every  man.  The  book  is  the  work  of  a  reclaimed  scep- 
tic. -  Edinburgh  United  Secession  Magazine. 

Though  written  with  great  simplicity,  it  is  evidently  the  production  of  a  master  mind.  There  is  a 
force  of  argument  and  a  power  of  conviction  almost  resistless.  -  London  Evangelical  Magazine. 

The  hook  before  us  is  one  of  singular  merit.  As  a  piece  of  clear,  vigorous,  consecutive  thinking, 
we  eareely  know  its  superior.  We  would  not  hesitate  to  place  it  side  by  side  with  Butler's  Analogy, 
merely  as  a  specimen  of  close  and  unanswerable  reasoning,  while  it  is  far  superior  with  resard  to  the 
evangelical  view  which  it  gives  of  the  plan  of  salvation.  -  Edinburgh  Free  Church  Magazine. 

.,,". /"''"   /,"''  "**  "'  "■''  K""x  ('""'  ■■"■•  Tlhnois,"  says,  "  I  have  just  taken  the  senior  class  through  the 
J  lillosophy  of  the  Plan  of  Salvation.     It  is  decidedly  the  best  vindication  of  the  Old  Testament  Scrip-    . 
tures  against  the  assaults  of  infidelity,  and  one  of  the  most  useful  class  books  which  I  have  ever  met." 
A  Welsh  minister,  in  Michigan,  brought  a  copy  from  Wales.    It  has  been  translated  into  Welsh,  and 
U  circulated  broadcast  over  the  hills,  through  the  hamlets,  and  in  the  mines  of  his  native  land. 

Ii 


IMPORT  A  iN  T    N  E  W    WORKS. 

THE  CHRISTIAN  LIFE  :    Social  and  Individual.    By  Petjeb  Bayne.  A  M 

12mo.     Cloth.    $1.25. 

Contents. — Part  I.  Statement.  I.  The  Individual  Life.  II.  The  Social  I.ile. 
Part  II.  Exposition  and  Illustration.  Book  I.  Christianity  the  Basis  of 
Social  Life.  I.  First  Principles.  II.  Howard;  and  the  rise  of  Philanthropy.  III. 
Wilberforce;  and  the  development  of  Philanthropy.  IV.  Budgett;  the  Christian 
Freeman.  V .  The  social  problem  of  the  age,  and  one  or  two  hints  towards  its  solution. 
Book  II.  Christianity  the  Basis  of  Individual  Character.  I.  Introductory :  a  few 
Words  on  Modern  Doubt.  II.  John  Foster.  III.  Thomas  Arnold.  IV.  Thomas 
Chalmers.  Part  III.  Outlook:.  I.  The  Positive  Philosophy.  II.  Pantheistio 
Spiritualism.    III.  General  Conclusion. 

Particular  attention  is  invited  to  this  work.  In  Scotland,  its  publication,  during 
the  last  winter,  produced  a  great  sensation.  Hugh  Miller  made  it  the  subject  of  an 
elaborate  review  in  his  paper,  the  Edinburgh  Witness,  and  gave  his  readers  to  under- 
stand that  it  was  an  extraordinary  work.  The  "  News  of  the  Churches,"  the  monthly 
organ  of  the  Scottish  Free  Church,  was  equally  emphatic  in  its  praise,  pronouncing 
it  "  the  religious  book  of  the  season."  Strikingly  original  in  plan  and  brilliant  in 
execution,  it  far  surpasses  the  expectations  raised  by  the  somewhat  familiar  title.  It 
is,  in  truth,  a  bold  onslaught  (and  the  first  of  the  kind)  upon  the  Pantheism  of  Carlyle, 
Fichte,  etc.,  by  an  ardent  admirer  of  Carlyle;  and  at  the  same  time  an  exhibition  of 
the  Christian  Life,  in  its  inner  principle,  and  as  illustrated  in  the  lives  of  Howard 
V\  iiburiuiue,  iiuugeti,  i-  osier.  Onajiuers.  eto.  The  brilliancy  and  vigor  of  the  author  a 
st)  !e  are  remarkable 

PATRIARCHY;  or,  the  Family,  its  Constitution  and  Proba  By  John 

Harris,  D.  D.,  President  of  "  New  College,"  London,  and  author  of  u  The 
Great  Teacher,"  "  Mammon,"  "  Pre-Adamite  Earth,"  "  Man  Primeval,"  etc 
12mo.    Cloth.    $1.25.    [17=  a  new  work  of  great  interest. 
This  is  the  third  and  last  of  a  series,  by  the  same  author,  entitled  "  Contributions 
to  Theological  Science."    The  plan  of  this  series  is  highly  original,  and  has  been 
most  successfully  executed.    Of  the  two  first  in  the  series,  "  Pre-Adamite  Earth"  and 
"  Man  Primeval,"  we  have  already  issued  four  and  five  editions,  and  the  demand 
still  continues.    The  immense  sale  of  all  Dr.  Harris's  works  attest  their  intrinsic 
worth.    This  volume  contains  most  important  information  and  instruction  touching 
the  family— its  nature  and  order,  parental  instruction,  parental  authority  and  gov- 
ernment, parental  responsibility,  &c.    It  contains,  in  fact,  such  a  fund  of  valuable 
information  as  no  pastor,  or  head  of  a  family,  can  afford  to  dispense  with. 

GOO  REVEALED  IN  NATURE  AND  IN  CHRIST:  Including  a  Refutation 
of  the  Development  Theory  contained  in  the  "  Vestiges  of  the  Natural  History 
of  Creation."  By  the  Author  of  "  The  Philosophy  of  the  Plan  of  Sali- 
vation."   12mo.    Cloth.    $1.25. 

The  author  of  that  remarkable  book,  "The  Philosophy  of  the  Plan  of  Salvation," 
has  devoted  several  years  of  incessant  labor  to  the  preparation  of  this  work.  Without 
being  specifically  controversial,  its  aim  is  to  overthrow  several  of  the  popular  errors 
of  the  day,  by  establishing  the  antagonist  truth  upon  an  impregnable  basis  of  reaso.i 
and  logic.  In  opposition  to  the  doctrine  of  a  mere  subjective  revelation,  now  so 
plausibly  inculcated  by  certain  eminent  writers,  it  demonstrates  the  necessity  of  an 
external,  objective  revelation.  Especially,  it  furnishes  a  new,  and  as  it  is  conceived, 
a  conclusive  argument  against  the  "development  theory"  so  ingeniously  maintained 
in  the  "  Vestiges  of  the  Natural  History  of  Creation."  As  this  author  does  not  pub- 
lish except  when  he  has  something  to  say,  there  is  good  reason  to  anticipate  that  the 
work  will  be  one  of  unusual  interest  and  value.  His  former  book  has  met  with  the 
most  signal  success  in  ^oth  hemispheres,  having  passed  through  numerous  editiona 
in  England  and  Scotland,  and  been  translated  into  four  of  the  European  languageu 
besides     It  »s  also  about  to  be  translated  into  the  Uiudoostanee  tonjsue.  Una 


IMPORTANT  NEW  WORKS. 

YAHVEII    CHRIST,   or  the  Memorial  Name.     By  Alexander  Mao 

Whortkr,  Yale  University.    With  an  Introductory  Letter,   by  ^Nathaniel  W. 

Taylor, D.  D.,  Dwight  Professor  oi  Didactic  Theology,  Yale  Theological  Seminary. 

16mo,  cloth,  62c. 

The  object  of  this  work  is  to  show  that  a  most  important  error  has  hitherto  been  entertained 
respecting  the  Hebrew  word  given  as  "Jehovah,''  in  the  Old  Testament.  The  author  shows,  by  a 
historic-philological  argument,  that  it  was  not  "Jehovah,"  but  Yahveh,— that  it  does  not  mean 
'•I  Am"  (self-existence),  bnt  '-He  who  Will  Be,  or  Come"  (The  Deliverer);  m  short,  that 
the  "Jehovah  "  of  the  Old  Testament,  and  the  '•  Christ "  of  the  New,  denote  one  and  the  same  being. 

Extract  from  Dr.  Taylor's  Introductory  Letter.  —  The  argument  is  altogether  new 
and  original;  and  if  valid,  proves  what  many  of  the  ablest  theologians  have  believed,  without  resting 
their  belief  upon  grounds  so  thoroughly  exegetical.  It  raises  a  question  to  be  met  wherever  the  Bible 
is  read,  —  a  question  in  respect  to  a  fact  which  it  would  seem,  if  not  admitted,  must  at  least  be  con- 
troverted. If  the  view  here  taken  is  erroneous,  it  is  too  plausible  to  be  passed  over  with  indifference 
by  the  friends  of  truth;  if  true,  it  is  of  unmeasured  importance  to  the  Church  and  to  the  world. 

The  book  is  an  intensely  interesting  one  ;  rich  in  suggestions  with  regard  to  the  scheme  of  Provi- 
dence and  Grace  as  developed  under  both  Dispensations,  and  presenting  in  its  main  topic  a  subject 
that  is  deserving  of  thorough  investigation.  We  think  it  cannot  fail  to  be  widely  circulated,  and  to 
attract  m  no  small  degree  the  attention  of  scholars.  —  Chicago  Christian  Times. 

This  little  volume  is  destined  at  least  to  awaken  thought  and  attention,  if  not  to  accomplish  all  that 
the  author  expects  of  it.  The  argument  to  a  cursory  glance  shows  great  probability,  and  is  worth 
a  serious  attention.  If  his  position  could  be  demonstrated  it  would  be  one  of  vast  importance  to 
theology,  and  would  give  m  some  sense  a  new  face  to  the  Old  Testament.  Though  the  work  relates 
to  a  Hebrew  word,  it  is  written  in  a  form  to  be  understood  by  all  readers,  and  it  deserves,  what  w« 
have  no  doubt  it  will  receive,  a  careful  examination.  —  Puritan  Recorder. 

It  is  refreshing  in  these  days  of  many  books,  to  fall  in  with  an  original  work,  laying  open  a  new  vein 
of  thought,  and  leading  the  student  to  a  novel  train  of  investigations.  Mr.  MacWhorter  is  entitled 
to  this  rare  distinction,  for  his  conclusions  will  be  entirely  new  to  the  large  body  of  American 
scholars.  We  can  commend  the  volume  cordially  to  all  readers  who  enjoy  an  investigation,  marked 
by  great  thoroughness,  ripe  scholarship,  and  eminent  candor,  and  written,  too,  in  an  animated  and 
flowing  style.  We  anticipate  that  the  work  must  create  a  profound  sensation  in  the  theological  world, 
for  its  conclusions  are  tenable  ;  it  puts  at  rest  forever  all  doubts  of  the  Divinity  of  Christ.  —  Watch- 
man and  Reflector. 

HEAVEN.  By  James  William  Kimball.  With  elegant  illustrated  title- 
page.    12mo,  cloth,  $1.00. 

From  Prof.  Huntington,  Editor  of  the  Religious  Magazine.  — He  has  avoided  the 
perilous  and  tempting  extremes  of  rash  or  fanciful  painting  on  the  one  side,  or  of  a  too  exact  and 
literal  description  on  the  other.  .  .  .  One  is  surprised  at  the  mental  discipline,  the  variety  of 
information,  and  the  measure  of  literary  skill  evinced  in  the  body  of  the  work. 

The  book  is  full  of  beautiful  ideas,  consoling  hopes,  and  brilliant  representations  of  human  destiny, 
all  presented  in  a  chaste,  pleasing,  and  very  readable  style.  — N.  Y.  Chronicle. 

There  is  an  air  of  freshness  and  originality  about  it,  that  will  render  it  interesting  even  to  some 
■whose  spirits  have  not  caught  the  upward  tendency.  —  Puritan  Recorder. 

This  is  a  delightful  volume,  written  by  an  active  business  man  of  this  city,  upon  a  subject  which 
must  always  possess  peculiar  interest  to  the  Christian.  —  N.  E.  Farmer. 

It  is  suggestive  of  elevated  thoughts  respecting  that  lofty  state  and  place  which  is  called  heaven, 
and  to  the  attainment  of  which  our  best  energies  should  be  directed.  —  Presbyterian. 

We  welcome  this  contribution  to  our  religious  literature,  from  the  open  pen  ot  a  Christian  mer- 
chant. Free  from  pedantry  and  the  conventionalities  of  logic  and  of  style.it  comes  to  us  with  a 
freshness  of  thought  and  a  fervor  of  feeling  that  are  often  wanting  in  the  scholar's  page.  The  author 
draws  illustrations,  som  times,  from  scenes  with  which  the  professional  teacher  is  little  conversant. 
—  N.  Y.  Independent. 

The  author  is  certainly  an  independent  thinker,  as  well  as  a  vigorous  writer,  and  has  written  a 
book  that  will  please  the  thoughtful,  and  will  astonish  pious  people,  who  seldom,  and  always  timidly, 
tliink.  Freed  from  the  technicalities  of  theological  science,  his  style  is  all  the  more  pleasing.  In 
short,  everything  about  the  work  is  fresh  and  racy.  The  author's  views  of  the  socu  ty,  joy,  and 
occupations  ot  Heaven  are  somewhat  peculiar,  but  none  the  less  philosophical  and  acceptable.  We 
ttdmire  him  intensely,  and  bid  him  God  speed.  —Western  Lit.  Messenger.  (w> 


MODERN    ATHEISM. 

MODERN  ATHEISM,  under  its  Forms  of  Pantheism,  Materialism,  Secu- 
larism, Development,  and  Natural  Laws.  By  James  Buchanan,  D.D  ,  LL.D. 
12mo,  cloth,  81.25. 

The  Author  of  this  work  is  the  successor  of  Dr.  Chalmers  in  the  Chair  of  Divinity  in  the  New 
College,  Edinburgh,  and  the  intellectual  leader  of  the  Scottish  Free  Church. 

From  Hugh  Miller,  Author  ok  "  Old  Red  Sandstone,"  &c,  &c.  —  The  -work  before  us  Is 
one  of  at  once  the  most  readable  and  solid  which  we  have  ever  perused. 

From  the  "News  of  the  Churches."  — It  is  a  work'of  which  nothing  less  can  be  said,  than 
that,  both  in  spirit  and  substance,  style  and  argument,  it  fixes  irreversibly  the  name  of  the  author 
as  a  leading  classic  in  the  Christian  literature  of  Britain. 

From  Howard  Malcom,  D.  D.,  President  of  Lewisburg  University. —  No  work  has 
come  into  my  hands,  for  a  long  time,  so  helpful  to  me  as  a  teacher  of  metaphysics  and  morals. 
I  know  of  nothing  which  will  answer  for  a  substitute.  The  public  specially  needs  such  a  book  at 
this  time,  when  the  covert  atheism  of  Fichtc,  Wolfe,  Hegel,  Kant,  Schelling,  D'Holbach,  Comte, 
Crousse,  Atkinson,  Martineau,  Leroux,  Mackay,  Holyoake,  and  others,  is  being  spread  abroad  with 
all  earnestness,  supported,  at  least  in  some  places,  both  by  church  influence  and  university  honors. 
I  cannot  but  hope  that  a  work  so  timely,  scholarly,  and  complete,  will  do  much  good. 

It  is  one  of  the  most  solid  and  remarkable  books  in  its  department  of  literature;  one  of  the  most 
scholarly  and  profound  productions  of  modern  Christian  literature.  —  "Worcester  Transcript. 

Dr.  Buchanan  has  earned  a  high  and  well-deserved  reputation  as  a  classical  writer  and  close  logi- 
cal reasoner.  He  deals  heavy,  deadly  blows  on  atheism  in  all  its  various  forms  ;  and  wherever  the 
work  is  read  it  cannot  fail  to  do  good.  —  Christian  Secretary. 

It  is  a  work  which  places  its  author  at  once  in  the  highest  rank  of  modern  religious  authors.  His 
analyses  of  the  doctrines  held  by  the  various  schools  of  modern  atheism  are  admirable,  and  his 
criticism  original  and  profound  ;  while  his  arguments  in  defence  of  the  Christian  faith  are  powerful 
and  convincing.  It  is  an  attractive  as  well  as  a  solid  book  ;  and  he  who  peruses  a  few  of  its  pages  is, 
as  it  were,  irresistibly  drawn  on  to  a  thorough  reading  of  the  book. —  Boston  Portfolio. 

The  style  is  very  felicitous,  and  the  reasoning  clear  and  cogent.  The  opposing  theories  are  fairly 
stated  and  combated  with  remarkable  ease  and  skill.  Even  when  the  argument  fells  within  the 
range  of  science,  it  is  so  happily  stated  that  no  intelligent  reader  can  fail  to  understand  it.  Such  a 
profound,  dispassionate  work  is  particularly  called  for  at  the  present  time. —  Boston  Journal. 

It  is  justly  described  as  "a  great  argument,"  "  magnificent  in  its  strength,  order,  and  beauty,"  in 
defence  of  truth,  and  against  the  variant  theories  of  atheism.  It  reviews  the  doctrines  of  the  dif- 
ferent schools  of  modern  Atheism,  gives  a  fair  statement  of  their  theories,  answers  and  refutes  them, 
never  evading,  but  meeting  and  crushing  their  arguments.  —  Phila.  Christian  Observer. 

Dr.  Buchanan  is  candid  and  impartial,  too,  as  so  strong  a  man  can  afford  to  be,  evades  no  argument, 
undertakes  no  opposing  view,  but  meets  his  antagonists  with  the  quiet  and  unswerving  confidence 
of  a  locomotive  on  iron  tracks,  pretty  sure  to  crush  them.  —  Christian  Register. 

We  hail  this  production  of  a  master  mind  as  a  lucid,  vigorous,  discriminating,  and  satisfactory 
refutation  of  the  various  false  philosophies  which  have  appeared  in  modern  times  to  allure  ingenu- 
ous youth  to  their  destruction.  Dr.  Buchanan  has  studied  them  thoroughly,  weighed  them  dispas- 
sionately, and  exposed  their  falsity  and  emptiness.  His  refutation  is  a  clear  stream  of  l.ght  from 
beginning  to  end.  —  Phila.  Presbyterian. 

We  recommend  "Modern  Atheism"  as  a  hook  for  the  times,  and  as  having  special  claims  on 
theological  students.  —  Universalist  Quarterly. 

It  is  remarkable  for  the  clearness  with  which  it  apprehends  and  the  fairness  with  which  it  states, 
not  less  than  for  the  ability  with  which  it  replies  to,  the  schemes  of  unbelief  in  its  various,  modern 
forms.  It  will  lie  found  easy  to  read— though  not  light  reading— and  very  quickening  to  thought, 
while  it  clears  away,  one  by  one,  the  mists  which  the  Devil  has  conjured  around  the  great  doctrines 
of  our  Faith,  by  the  help  of  some  of  his  ingenious  modern  coadjutors,  and  leave  s  the  truth  of  Cod 
standing  in  its  serene  and  pristine  majesty,  as  if  the  breath  of  hatred  never  had  been  breathed  forth 
against  it.  —  CONGREGATION  W.IST. 

Dr.  Buchanan  has  here  none  into  the  enemy's  camp,  and  defeated  him  on  his  own  ground. 
The  work  is  a  masterly  defence  of  faith  against  dogmatic  unbelief  on  the  one  hand,  and  that  uni- 
versal skepticism  on  the  other,  which  neither  affirms  nor  denies,  on  the  ground  of  an  assumed 
deficiency  of  evidence  as  to  the  reality  of  God  and  religion.  —  N.  Y.  Christian  Chronicle. 

It  is  a  cleariy  and  vigorously  written  book.  It  is  particularly  valuable  for  its  clear  statement  and 
masterly  refutation  of  the  Pantheism  of  Spinoza  and  his  School.  —  Christian  Herald.  (v) 


IMPO  R  T  A  N  T     W  O  11  K. 


KITTO'S  TOPULAR  CYCLOPAEDIA  OF  BIBLICAL  LITERA. 
TURE.  Condensed  from  the  larger  work.  By  the  Autlior,  John  Kitto,  D.  I).,  Author 
of"  Pictorial  Bible,''  "  History  of  Palestine,"  "Scripture  Daily  Readings,"  <fcc.  Assisted 
by  James  Taylor,  D.  D.,  of  Glasgow.  With  over  Jive  hundred  J lludtratiuns.  One  vol- 
ume octavo,  812  pp.,  cloth,  3,00. 

The  Popular  Biblical  Cyclopaedia  of  Literature  is  designed  to  furnish  a  Dictionart 
of  the  Biele,  embodying  the  products  of  the  best  and  most  recent  researches  in  biblical  literature, 
in  which  the  scholars  of  Europe  and  America  have  been  engaged.  The  work,  the  result  of  immense 
labor  and  research,  and  enriched  by  the  contributions  of  writers  of  distinguished  eminence  in  the  va- 
rious departments  of  sacred  literature,  has  been,  by  universal  consent,  pronounced  the  best  work  of 
its  class  extant,  and  the  one  best  suited  to  the  advanced  knowledge  of  the  present  day  in  all  the  stuuics 
connected  with  theological  science.  It  is  not  only  intended  for  ministers  and  theological  students, 
but  is  also  particularly  adapted  to  parents,  Sabbath  school  teachers,  and  the  great  both/  of  the  religious 
puolic.    The  illustrations,  amounting  to  more  than  three  hundred,  are  of  the  very  highest  order. 

A  condensed  view  of  the  various  branches  of  Biblical  Science  comprehended  in  the  work. 

1.  Biblical  Criticism,— Embracing  the  History  of  the  Bible  Languages  ;  Canon  of  Scripture; 
Literary  History  and  Peculiarities  of  the  Sacred  Books  ;  Formation  and  History  cf  Scripture  Texts. 

2.  Hi  stoet,  —  Proper  Names  of  Persons;  Biographical  Sketches  of  prominent  Characters;  Detailed 
Accounts  of  important  Events  recorded  in  Scripture  ;  Chronology  and  Genealogy  of  Scripture. 

3.  Geography,  —  Names  of  Places;  Description  of  Scenery  ;  Boundaries  and  Mutual  Relations  of 
the  Countries  mentioned  in  Scripture,  so  far  as  necessary  to  illustrate  the  Sacred  Text. 

4.  AucHjEOLOGY,  —  Manners  and  Customs  of  the  Jews  and  other  nations  mentioned  in  Scripture; 
their  Sacred  Institutions,  Military  Affairs,  Political  Arrangements,  Literary  and  Scientific  Pursuits. 

5.  Physical  Science, —  Scripture  Cosmogony  and  Astronomy,  Zoology,  Mineralogy,  Botany. 
Meteorology. 

In  addition  to  numerous  flattering  notices  and  reviews,  personal  letters  from  more  than  fifty  of  the 
viost  distinguished  Ministers  and  Laymen  of  different  religions  <,'<  nominations  in  the  country  have  been 
received,  highly  commending  this  work  as  admirably  adapted  to  ministers,  Sabbath  school  teachers^ 
a;ads  of  families,  and  all  Bible  students. 

The  following  extract  of  a  letter  is  a  fair  specimen  of  individual  letters  received  from  each  of  the 
gentlemen  whose  names  are  given  below:— 

"  I  have  examined  it  with  special  and  unalloyed  satisfaction.  It  has  the  rare  merit  of  heing  all  thnt 
it  professes  to  be,  and  very  few,  I  am  sure,  who  may  consult  it  will  deny  that,  in  richness  and  fulness 
of  detail,  it  surpasses  their  expectation.  Many  ministers  will  find  it  a  valuable  auxiliary;  but  its 
chief  excellence  is,  that  it  furnishes  just  the  facilities  which  are  needed  by  the  thousands  in  families 
and  Sabbath  schools,  who  are  engaged  in  the  important  business  of  biblical  education.  It  is  in  itself  a 
library  of  reliable,  information." 

W.  B.  Sprague,  I).  D.,  Pastor  of  Second  Presbyterian  Church,  Alhany,  N.  Y. 

J.  J.  Carruthers,  D.  D.,  Pastor  of  Second  Parish  Congregational  Church,  Portland,  Me. 

Joel  Dawes,  D.  D.,  Pastor  of  First  Congregational  Church,  Hartford,  Ct. 

Daniel  Sharp,  D.  D.,  late  Pastor  of  Third  Baptist  Church,  Boston. 

N.  L.  Frothingham,  D.  D.,late  Pastor  of  First  Congregational  Church,  (Unitarian,)  Boston. 

Ephraim  Peabody,  D.  D.,  Pastor  of  Stone  Chapel  Congregational  Church,  (Unitarian,)  Boston. 

A.  L.  Stone,  Pastor  of  Park  Street  Congregational  Church,  Boston. 

John  S.  Stone,  D.  D.,  Rector  of  Christ  Church,  (Episcopal,)  Brooklyn,  N.  Y. 

J.  B.  Waterbury,  D.  D.,  Pastor  of  Bowdoin  Street  Church,  (Congregational,)  Boston. 

Baron  Stow,  D.  D.,  Pastor  of  Rowe  Street  Baptist  Church,  Boston. 

Thomas  II.  Skinner,  D.  D.,  Pastor  of  Carmine  Presbyterian  Church,  New  York. 

Samuel  W.  Worcester,  D.  D.,  Pastor  of  the  Tabernacle  Church,  (Congregational,)  Salem. 

Horace  Bushnell,  D.  D.,  Pastor  of  Third  Congregational  Church,  Hartford,  Ct. 

Eight  Reverend  J.  M.  Wainwright.  D.  D.,  Trinity  Church,  (Episcopal.)  New  York. 

Gardner  Spring.  D.  D.,  Pastor  of  the  Brick  Church  Chapel  Presbyterian  Church,  New  York. 

W.  T.  Dwight,  I).  D.,  Pastor  of  Third  Congregational  Church.  Portland,  Me. 

E.  N.  Kirk,  Pastor  of  Mount  Vernon  Congregational  Church.  Boston. 

Prof.  Georjre  Bush,  author  of  "  Notes  on  the  Scriptures,"  New  York. 

Howard  Malcom,  D.  D.,  author  of  "  Bible  Dictionary,"  and  Pres  of  Lewisburg  University. 

Henry  .1  Ripley,  D.  D.,  author  of  "  Notes  on  the  Scriptures,"  and  Prof,  in  Newton  Theol.  Ins. 

N.  Porter.  Prof,  in  Yale  College,  New  Haven,  Ct. 

Jarcd  Srvirks.  Edward  Everett.  Theodore  Frelinghuysen,  Robert  C.  Winthrop,  John  McLean, 

Simon  Greenleaf,  Thomas  S.  Williams, —  and  a  large  number  of  others  of  like  character   and 

ftunriins  of  the  above,  whose  names  cannot  here  appear.  I' 


iIPORTAFF  WORKS. 


ANALYTICAL  CONCORDANCE  OF  THE  HOLY  SCRIPTURES ; 
or,  The  Bible  presented  under  Distinct  and  Classified  Heads  or  Tcpics.  By  John 
Eadik,  D.  D.,  LL.  D.,  Author  of  "  Biblical  Cyclopaedia,"  "  Dictionary  of  the 
Bible,1'  &c,  &c.  One  volume,  royal  octavo,  833  pp.  Cloth,  $3.00;  sheep,  S3  50. 
Just  published. 

The  publishers  would  call  the  special  attention  of  clergymen  and  others  to  some  of  the  peculiar 
features  of  this  great  work. 

1.  It  is  a  concordance  of  subjects,  not  of  words.  In  this  it  differs  from  the  common  concordance, 
which,  of  course,  it  does  not  supersede.    Both  are  necessary  to  the  Biblical  student. 

2.  It  embraces  all  the  topics,  both  secular  and  religious,  which  arc  naturally  suggested  by  the  entire 
contents  of  the  Bible.  In  this  it  differs  from  Scripture  Manuals  and  Topical  Text-books,  which  are 
confined  to  religious  or  doctrinal  topics. 

S.  It  contains  the  whole  of  the  Bible  without  abridgment,  differing  in  no  respect  from  the  Bible  in 
common  use,  except  in  the  classification  of  its  contents. 

4.  It  contains  a  synopsis,  separate  from  the  concordance,  presenting  within  the  compass  of  a  few 
pages  a  bird's-eye  view  of  the  whole  contents. 

5.  It  contains  a  table  of  contents,  embracing  nearly  two  thousand  heads,  arranged  in  alphabetical 
order. 

G.  It  is  much  superior  to  the  only  other  work  in  the  language  prepared  on  the  same  general  plan, 
and  is  offered  to  the  public  at  much  less  cost. 

The  purchaser  gets  not  only  a  Concordance,  but  also  a  Bilile,  in  this  volume.  The  superior  con- 
venience arising  out  of  this  fact,  —  saving,  as  it  does,  the  necessity  of  having  two  bookj  at  hand  and 
of  making  two  references,  instead  of  one,  —  will  be  readily  apparent. 

The  general  subjects  (under  each  of  vduch  there  are  a  vast  number  of  sub-divisions)  are  arranged 
as  follows,  viz.  : 

Agriculture,  Genealogy,  Ministers  of  Religion,    Sacrifice, 

Animals,  God,  Miracles,  Scriptures, 

Architecture,  Heaven,  Occupations,  Speech, 

Army,  Arms,  Idolatry,  Idols,  Ordinances,  Spirits, 

Body,  Jesus  Christ,  Parables  and  Emblems,  Tabernacle  and  Temple, 

Canaan,  Jews,  Persecution,  Vineyard  and  Orchard, 

Covenant,  Laws,  Praise  and  Prayer,  Visions  and  Dreams, 

Diet  and  Dress,  Magistrates,  Prophecy,  War, 

Disease  and  Death,    Man,  Providence,  Water. 

Earth,  Marriage,  Redemption, 

Family,  Metals  and  Minerals,  Sabbaths  and  noly  Days, 

That  such  a  work  as  this  is  of  exceeding  great  convenience  is  matter  of  obvious  remark.  But  it 
is  much  more  than  that ;  it  is  also  an  instructive  work.  It  is  adapted  not  only  to  assist  the  student 
in  prosecuting  the  investigation  of  preconceived  ideas,  but  also  to  impart  ideas  which  the  most  care- 
ful reading  of  the  Bible  in  its  ordinary  arrangement  might  not  suggest.  Let  him  take  up  any  one  of 
the  subjects  —  "  Agriculture,"  for  example  —  and  see  if  such  be  not  the  case.  This  feature  places 
the  work  in  a  higher  grade  than  that  of  the  common  Concordance.  It  shows  it  to  be,  so  to  speak,  a 
work  of  more  mind. 

No  Biblical  student  would  willingly  dispense  with  this  Concordance  when  once  possessed.  It  is 
adapted  to  the  necessities  of  all  classes,  —  clergymen  and  theological  students;  Sabbath-school 
superintendents  and  teachers;  authors  engaged  in  the  composition  of  religious  and  even  secular 
works;  and,  in  fine,  common  readers  of  the  Bible,  intent  only  on  their  own  improvement. 

A  COMMENTARY  OX  THE  ORIGINAL  TEXT  OF  THE  ACTS 
OF  THE  APOSTLES.  By  Horatio  B.  Hackett.  D.  D.,  Professor  of  Biblical  Liter- 
ature and  Interpretation,  in  the  Newton  Theological  Institution.  CCT^A  new, 
revised,  and  enlarged  edition.     In  Press. 

KQ?»  This  most  important  and  very  popular  work,  has  been  throughly  revised  (some  parts  being 
entirely  rewritten),  and  considerably  enlarged  by  the  introduction  of  important  new  matter,  the 
result  of  the  Author's  continued,  laborious  investigations  since  the  publication  of  the  fust  edition, 
aided  by  the  more  recent  published  criticisms  on  this  portion  of  the  Divine  Word,  by  other  distin- 
guished Biblical  Scholars,  in  this  country  and  in  Europe.  (y) 


MOTHERS    OF   THE   WISE  AND    GOOD. 

151"   THE    REV.  JABEZ  BURNS,   D.    D. 

Author  of  "Pulpit  Cyclopaedia,"  etc.     lGmo,  cloth,  75  cents. 

03-  A  beautiful  gallery  of  portraits  of  those  who  not  only  were  "  wise  and  good"  in  their  own  gen- 
eration, but  whose  influence,  long  after  they  were  slumbering  in  the  dust,  went  forth  to  live  again  in 
their  children.  A  sketch  of  the  mothers  of  the  most  eminent  men  of  the  world,  showing  how  much 
they  were  indebted  to  maternal  influence  for  their  greatness  and  excellence  of  character,  is  given. 

A  handsome  volume,  containing  heaven-blessed  memorials  of  many  excellent  Christian  mothers, 
for  the  encouragement  of  others.  —  Phil.  Ch.  Observer. 

If  this  is  not  a  popular  work,  it  must  be  because  mothers  are  scarce,  and  real  children  are  no  more. 
It  is  full  of  the  anecdotal  literature  of  the  subject—  tales  with  a  moral.  It  ought  to  be  in  the  Sabbath 
school  library,  and  in  every  sitting  room  where  there  is  a  mother  to  be  stimulated  and  encouraged  in 
her  sweet  and  holy  vocation.  G.  &  L.  have  done  many  good  things,  but  none  better  than  the  repub- 
lication of  this  book.  —  Puritan  Recorder. 

This  is  a  great  and  blessed  collection  of  important  subjects,  relating  to,  or  bearing  upon,  the  mater- 
nal influence,  in  forming  the  habits  and  moulding  the  character  of  children.  It  should  be  in  the 
home  of  every  mother  in  our  land.  —  Albany  Spectator. 

One  of  the  most  delightful  volumes  we  have  read  for  a  long  time,  and  as  useful  and  valuable  as  it 
Is  delightful.  It  has  been  well  described  as  "  a  cabinet  of  charming  reminiscences,  of  facts  and 
morals,  of  incidents  and  principles—  it  once  delightful  and  edifying  — a  gallery  of"  elect  ladies"  and 
their  sons.    We  bespeak  for  it  a  universal  reception.  —  A.  Y.  Commercial. 

We  wish  it  were  in  every  family,  and  read  by  every  mother  in  the  land.—  Lutheran  Observer. 

"We  have  lingered  over  the  pages  of  this  most  attractive  book,  with  feelings  of  interest,  which  we 
cannot  express.  Many  remembrances  of  youth  arose,  and  took  full  possession  of  our  heart,  while 
in  some  instances,  we  scarcely  knew  whether  we  read  the  pages  of  the  work  before  us,  or  those  of 
memory.  It  is  well  that  instances  of  the  precious  influences  of  maternal  piety,  prudence,  and  love, 
should  be  recorded;  but  who  can  tell  their  inestimable  value  ?—  English  Free  Ch.  Magazine. 

THE  EXCELLENT  WOMAN,  as  described  in  the  Book  of  Proverbs. 
With  an  Introduction  by  Rev.  \Y.  B.  Sprague,  D.  I).,  containing  twenty-four  splen- 
did Illustrations.     lOmo,  cloth,  1,00  ;  cloth,  gilt,  1,75 ;  extra  Turkey,  2.50. 

09-  This  elegant  volume  is  an  appropriate  and  valuable  "gift  book  "  for  the  husband  to  pre-ent  the 
wife,  or  the  child  the  mother.  It  trials  of  the  following  subjects  :  The  Virtuous  Woman;  Trust- 
worthy; Beneficent;  Active;  Enterprising;  Provident;  Managing)  Energetic;  Vigilant;  Indus- 
trious; Humane;  Thoughtful;  Tasteful;  Creditable;  Trafficking;  Reputable;  Peaceful;  Domes- 
tic; Commended;   Pre-eminent;   Godly,  and  Rewarded  Woman. 

It  is  not  sufficient  praise  to  say  that  we  have  been  interested  in  the  perusal  of  this  book.  It  is  just 
such  a  book  as  the  times  demand.  It  presents  to  the  female  mind  incentives  to  live  for  something 
more  noble  than  to  flit  like  a  butterfly  in  the  sunshine  of  capricious  admiration.  The  Excellent 
Woman,  described  in  the  Book  of  Proverbs,  is  the  text  by  which  the  writer  enforces  the  truth  that, 
true  dignity  and  honor  are  alone  attained  by  a  thorough  knowledge,  and  continued  practice  of  the 
relative  duties  of  life.    We  recommend  it  to  the  careful  perusal  of  all  our  patrons.  —  Mothers'  Journal. 

An  excellent  hook,  elegantly  printed,  and  embellished  with  some  twenty-four  beautiful  engravings. 
We  commend  the  work  most  cordially  to  mothers,  sisters,  and  daughters.—  Phil.  Ch.  Observer. 

It  will  bear  to  be  read  more  than  once;  and  each  successive  reading  will  reveal  some  new  gem 
of  thought  which,  in  the  general  mass  of  excellence,  had  been  overlooked  before.  —  Advertiser. 

We  have  commended  no  book  with  more  heartiness  and  good  will,  and  shall  be  glad  if  our  com- 
mendation places  it  in  the  families  of  our  readers,  as  a  book  to  be  read.—  Watchman  and  Reflector. 

Full  of  wisdom  and  instruction.  —  Salem  Register. 

A  gem  of  the  first  water,  regarding  either  beauty  of  typography,  or  richness  of  contents.  —  Cong. 

THE  MARRIAGE  RING ;  Or,  How  to  make  Home  Happy.     From  the 
Writings  of  John  Angell  James.     Beautiful  illustrated  edition.     Illuminated  title, 
and  elegant  variegated  borders  round  the  pages  of  the  book.     16mo,  cloth,  gilt,  75  cts. 
C3-  A  more  beautiful  or  appropriate  "  gift  "  to  present  a  newly-married  couple,  cannot  be  found. 
A  beautiful  volume,  and  a  very  suitable  present  to  a  newly-married  couple.  —  2K  Y.  Ch.  Intelligencer. 
An  exquisite  little  volume,  inculcating  practical  hints  and  wise  suggestions.  —  Am.  Traveller. 


WORKS  BY  DR.  TWEEDIE. 


GLAD  TIDINGS  ;  or,  The  Gospel  of  Peace.  A  series  of  Daily  Meditations 
for  Christian  Disciples.  By  Rev.  W.  K.  Tweedie,  D.  D.  With  an  elegant 
Illustrated  Title-page.     loino,  cloth.     G3  cents. 

These  meditations,  though  brief,  are  comprehensive  and  weighty.  It  is  remarkable  for  con- 
densation, for  a  deep  evangelical  tone,  and  for  putting  itself  into  direct  contact  with  the  con- 
science and  the  heart.  —  Albany  Argus. 

We  heartily  wish  this  little  book  were  in  every  Christian  family,  and  could  be  carefully  read 
through  by  every  Christian.  —  N.  Y.  Evangelist. 

This  sweet  little  volume  challenges  our  warmest  commendation.  Every  page  glows  with 
Christian  example  and  goodness.  The  perusal  of  one  chapter  will  awake  a  keener  relish  for  the 
commencement  of  another.  The  Frontispiece,  representing  the  shepherd's  watch  of  their  docks 
by  night,  is  sublimely  beautiful.  —  Lawrence  Courier. 

Earnest  and  pointed  in  style,  pithy  and  practical  in  thought,  thoroughly  evangelical,  it  is  not 
only  a  useful  but  a  valuable  work.  —  Religious  Herald. 

A  LAMP  TO  THE  PATH  ;  or,  the  Bible  in  the  Heart,  the  Home,  and 
the  Market-place.  AVith  an  elegant  Illustrated  Title-page.  lGuio,  cloth. 
(13  cents. 

The  power,  the  beauty,  and  the  necessity  of  religion  in  the  heart,  the  home,  the  workshop, 
the  market-place,  the  professions,  and  in  social  intercourse,  are  happily  illustrated,  and  no  per- 
son can  read  the  work  without  being  greatly  benefited.  It  is  a  jewel,  and  should  enrich  every 
family  library.  The  last  chapter,  entitled,  "  Religion  the  Crown  and  Glory  of  Man's  Life,"  is 
worthy  of  being  engraven,  as  with  the  point  of  a  diamond,  on  every  human  heart.  —  Southern 
Literary  Messenger. 

We  wish  every  family  covdd  read  the  volume.  Society,  in  that  event,  would  owe  a  debt  of 
gratitude  to  the  author  for  many  a  personal  reformation.  —  Peterson's  Magazine. 

This  little  volume  brings  Christianity  home  to  the  bosoms  and  business  of  men.  It  is  a  lucid, 
impressive,  and  beautiful  exposition  of  Christian  obligations.  —  Albany  Argus. 

It  is  eloquently  written,  with  a  searching  closeness  as  well  as  rare  correctness  of  style  ;  and 
Iroth  young  men  and  old  may  ponder  over  its  pages  with  profit.  —  Yankee  Blcale. 

SEED-TIME  AND  HARVEST  ;  or,  Sow  Well  and  Reap  Well.  A  Book  for 
the  Young.    With  an  elegant  Illustrated  Title-page,     lbino,  cloth.    G3  cents. 

An  excellent  little  book,  more  particularly  designed  for  the  information  and  religious  im- 
provement of  young  readers  ;  but  persons  of  all  ages  may  derive  pleasure  and  profit  from  its 
perusal.  —  New  York  Commercial. 

The  great  thought  which  this  work  is  designed  to,  and  does  very  successfully,  develop,  comes 
out  on  the  title-page.  No  person  can  read  it  attentively,  without  feeling  that  there  is  an  im- 
portance attached  even  to  what  seem  to  be  his  most  indifferent  actions.  —  Puritan  Recorder. 

A  most  precious  volume  this  to  the  young,  taking  their  first  step  and  first  look  in  life  ;  teach- 
ing them,  in  language  at  once  simple  and  elevated,  that  if  they  would  reap  well,  they  must  sow 
well ;  that  if  they  would  enjoy  an  old  age  of  honor,  they  must  be  trained  in  youth  to  virtue. — 
Dr.  Sprague,  Albany  Spectator. 

The  object  of  this  little  book  is  to  impress  the  young  with  the  great  truth  "  that  whatsoever  a 
man  soweth,  that  shall  he  also  reap  ;"  showing  also  "  how  much  depends  upon  a  single  principle 
adopted  or  a  single  deed  done  "  in  early  life.   We  hope  it  will  have  many  readers.  — Ch.  Herald. 

THE  MORN  OF  LIFE  ;  or,  Examples  of  Female  Excellence.  A  Book  for 
Young  Ladies.     lGino,  cloth.     In  press. 

Jd£f  The  above  works,  by  Dr.  Tweedie,  are  of  uniform  size  and  style.  They  are  most  charm- 
ing, pious,  and  instructive  works,  beautifully  gotten  up,  and  well  adapted  for  "  gift-books." 

FAMILY  WORSHIP  ;  or,  the  Morning  and  Evening  Sacrifice.     One  volume. 

Octavo,  cloth        In  press.  (h) 


VALUABLE   WORKS. 

KNOWLEDGE  IS  POWER :  A  View  of  the  Productive  Forces  op 
Modern  Society,  and  the  Result  of  Labor,  Capital,  and  Skill.  By  Charles 
Knight.  American  edition,  with  Additions,  by  David  A.  Wells,  Editor  of 
"  Annual  of  Scientific  Discovery,"  &c.  With  numerous  Illustrations.  12mo, 
cloth.     $1.25. 

This  work  is  eminently  entitled  to  be  ranked  in  that  class,  styled,"  books  for  the  people."  The 
author  is  one  of  the  most  popular  writers  of  the  day.  "  Knowledge  is  Power  "  treats  of  those  things 
Which  "  come  home  to  the  business  ami  bosoms  "  of  every  man.  It  is  remarkable  for  its  fullness  and 
variety  of  information,  and  for  the  felicity  and  force  with  which  the  author  applies  his  facts  to  his 
reasoning.  The  facts  and  illustrations  are  drawn  from  almost  every  branch  of  skilful  industry. 
It  is  a  work  which  the  mechanic  and  artizan  of  every  description  will  be  sure  to  read  with  a  relish. 

This  is  a  work  of  rare  merit,  and  touches  many  strings  of  importance  with  which  society  is  linked 
together.  No  work  we  have  ever  seen  is  better  calculated  to  inspire  and  awaken  inventive  genius 
in  man  than  this.  Almost  every  department  of  human  labor  is  represented,  and  it  contains  a  large 
fund  of  useful  information,  condensed  in  a  volume,  every  chapter  of  which  is  worth  the  cost  of  the 
book.  It  would  be  an  act  of  manifest  injustice  to  the  community  for  any  editor  to  feel  an  indiffer- 
ence about  commending  this  volume  to  a  reading  public —  N.  Y.  Cu.  Herald. 

The  style  is  admirable,  and  the  book  itself  is  as  full  of  information  as  an  egg  is  of  meat.  —  Journal. 

As  teachers  we  know  no  better  remuneration,  than  for  them  First  to  buy  this  book  and  diligently 
read  it  themselves;  Second,  (o  teach  to  their  pupils  the  principles  of  industrial  organization  which 
it  contains,  and  of  the  facts  by  which  it  is  illustrated.  It  is  one  of  the  merits  of  this  book  that  its 
facts  will  interest  youthful  minds  and  be  retained  to  blossom  hereafter  into  theories  of  which  they 
are  now  incapable.  Third,  endeavor  to  have  a  copy  procured  for  the  district  library,  that  the  parents 
may  read  it,  and  the  teachers  reap  fruit  in  the  present  generation.  —  N.  Y.  Teacher. 

Contains  a  great  amount  of  information,  accompanied  with  numerous  illustrations,  rendering  it  a 
compendious  history  of  the  subjects  upon  which  it  treats.  —  N.  Y.  Courier  and  Inquirer. 

We  commend  the  work  as  one  of  real  value  and  profitable  reading.  —  Rochester  American. 

This  work  is  a  rich  repository  of  valuable  information  on  various  subjects,  having  a  bearing  on  tho 
industrial  and  social  interests  of  a  community. —  Puritan  Recorder. 

MY  SCHOOLS  AND  SCHOOLMASTERS  ;  or,  The  Story  of  my 
Education.  By  Hugh  Miller,  author  of  "Old  Bed  Sandstone,"  "Footprints 
of  the  Creator,"  "  My  First  Impressions  of  England,"  etc.     12nio,  cloth.    §1.25. 

"This  autobiography  is  quite  worthy  of  the  renowned  author.  His  first  attempts  at  literature, 
and  his  career  until  he  stood  forth  an  acknowledged  power  among  the  philosophers  and  ecclesias- 
tical leaders  of  his  native  land,  are  given  without  egotism,  with  a  power  and  vivacity  which  are 
equally  truthful  and  delightsome."— Presbyterian. 

"  Hugh  Miller  is  one  of  the  most  remarkable  men  of  the  age.  Having  risen  from  the  humble  walks 
of  life,  and  from  the  employment  of  a  stone-cutter,  to  the  highest  rank  among  scientific  men,  every- 
thing relating  to  his  history  possesses  an  interest  which  belongs  to  that  of  few  living  men.  There  is 
much  even  in  his  school-boy  days  which  points  to  die  man  as  he  now  is.  The  book  has  all  the  ease 
and  graphic  power  which  is  characteristic  of  his  writings."  —  New  York  Observer. 

"  This  volume  is  a  book  fo.-  the  ten  thousand.  It  is  embellished  with  an  admirable  likeness  of 
Hugh  Miller,  the  stone  mason  —  his  coat  off  and  his  sleeves  rolled  up  —  with  the  implements  of  labor 
in  hand  —  his  form  erect,  and  his  eye  bright  and  piercing.  The  biography  of  such  a  man  will  interest 
every  reader.  It  is  a  living  thing  — teaching  a  lesson  of  self-culture  of  immense  value." — Phila- 
delphia Christian  Observer. 

"  It  is  a  portion  of  autobiography  exquisitely  told,  ne  is  a  living  proof  that  a  single  man  may 
Contain  within  himself  something  more  than  all  the  books  in  the  world,  some  unuttered  word,  if  he 
will  look  within  and  read.  This  is  one  of  the  best  books  we  have  had  of  late,  and  must  have  a 
hearty  welcome  and  a  large  circulation  in  America."  — London  Corresp.  N.  Y.  Tribune. 

"  It  is  a  work  of  rare  interest ;  at  times  having  the  facination  of  a  romance,  and  again  suggesting 
the  prof'oundest  views  of  education  and  of  science.  The  ex-mason  holds  a  graphic  pen  ;  a  quiet 
humor  runs  through  his  pages  ;  he  tells  a  story  well,  and  some  of  his  pictures  of  home  life  might 
almost  be  classed  with  Wilson's."  — New  York  Independent. 

"  This  autobiography  is  the  book  for  poor  boys,  and  others  who  are  struggling  with  poverty  and 
limited  advantages  ;  and  perhaps  it  is  not  too  much  to  predict  that  in  a  few  years  it  will  become  one 
of  the  poor  man's  classics,  filling  a  space  on  his  scanty  shelf  next  to  the  Autobiography  of  Frank- 
lin."  —  New  England  Farmer. 

"  Lovers  of  the  romantic  should  not  neglect  the  book,  as  it  contains  a  narrative  of  tender  passion 
and  happily  reciprocated  affection,  which  will  be  read  with  subdued  emotion  and  unfailing  interest." 
—  Boston  Traveller.  ,,, j 


VALUABLE  WORKS. 

THE  IIALLIG;  or,  The  Sheepfold  nsr  the  Waters.  A  Tale  of 
Humble  Life  on  the  Coast  of  Schleswig.  Translated  from  the  German  of  Biernatz- 
ski,  by  Mrs.  George  P.  Marsh.  "With  a  Biographical  Sketch  of  the  Author 
12mo,  cloth.     $1.00. 

The  author  of  this  work  was  the  grandson  of  an  exiled  Polish  nobleman.  His  own  portrait  is 
understood  to  be  drawn  in  one  of  the  characters  of  the  Tale,  and  indeed  the  whole  work  has  a  sub- 
stantial foundation  in  fact.  In  Germany  it  has  passed  through  several  editions,  and  is  there  regard- 
ed as  the  chef-d'oeuvre  of  the  author.  As  a  revelation  of  an  entire  new  phase  of  human  society,  it 
will  strongly  remind  the  reader  of  Miss  Bremer's  tales.  In  originality  and  brilliancy  of  imagination, 
it  is  not  inferior  to  those;  — its  aim  is  far  higher.  The  elegance  of  Mrs.  Marsh's  translation  will  at 
once  arrest  the  attention  of  every  competent  judge. 

Hon.  Robert  C.  Wintiirop.  "  I  have  read  it  with  deep  interest.  Mrs.  Marsh,  has  given  us  an 
admirable  version  of  a  most  striking  and  powerful  work." 

From  Prof.  F.  D.  Huntington,  D.  D.,  in  the  Religious  Magazine.  "  Wherever  the  work 
goes  it  fascinates  the  cultivated  and  the  illiterate,  the  young  and  the  old,  the  devout  and  the  careless. 
Our  own  copy  u  in  brisk  circulation.  The  vivid  and  eloquent  description  of  the  strange  scenery, 
the  thrilling  accounts  of  the  mysterious  action  of  the  waters  and  vapors  of  the  Schleswig  coast,  &c, 
all  form  a  story  of  uncommon  attractions  and  unmingled  excellence." 

Dr.  Spragu«;  in  Albany  Spectator.  "A  rare  and  beautiful  work.  It  is  an  interesting 
contribution  to  the  physical  geography  of  a  part  of  Europe  lying  quite  beyond  the  reach  of  ordi- 
nary observation,  and  as  a  genial  and  faithful  sketch  of  human  life  under  conditions  which  are 
hardly  paralleled  elsewhere." 

The  tale  is  a  novel  one,  containing  thrilling  scenes,  as  well  as  religious  teachings.  —  Presbyterian. 

A  beautiful  and  exquisite  natural  tale.  In  novelty  of  life  and  customs,  as  well  as  in  nicely  drawn 
shades  of  local  and  personal  character  the  Hallig,  is  equalled  by  very  few  works  of  fiction.— 
Boston  Atlas. 

The  story,  which  is  deeply  thrilling,  is  exclusively  religious.— Cn.  Secretary. 

Here  we  have  another  such  book  as  makes  the  reading  of  it  a  luxury,  even  in  hot  summer  weather. 
It  takes  us  to  an  island  home,  in  the  chill  regions  of  the  North  Sea,  and  introduces  us  to  pastoral 
scenes  as  lively  and  as  edifying  as  those  of  Oberlin,  in  the  Ban  de  la  Roche.—  Southern  Bap. 

THE  CAMEL  :  His  Organization,  Habits  and  Uses,  considered  with  refer- 
ence to  his  Introduction  into  the  United  States.  By  George  P.  Marsh,  late  U- 
S.  Minister  at  Constantinople.    16mo,  cloth.    75  cents. 

This  book  treats  of  a  subject  of  great  interest,  especially  at  the  present  time.  It  furnishes  the  only 
complete  and  reliable  account  of  the  Camel  in  the  language.  It  is  the  result  of  extensive  research 
and  personal  observation,  and  it  has  been  prepared  with  special  reference  to  the  experiment  now 
being  made  by  our  Government,  of  domesticating  the  Camel  in  this  country. 

A  repository  of  interesting  information  respecting  the  Camel.  The  author  collected  the  principal 
materials  for  his  work  during  his  residence  and  travels  for  6ome  years  in  the  East.  He  describes 
the  species,  size,  color,  temper,  longevity,  useful  products,  diet,  powers,  training  and  speed  of  the 
Camel,  and  treats  of  his  introduction  into  the  United  States.  —  Phil.  Christian  Observer. 

This  is  a  most  interesting  book,  on  several  accounts.  The  subject  is  full  of  romance  and  informa- 
tion ;  the  treatment  is  able  and  thorough.  —  Texas  Cii.  Advocate. 

Our  Government  have  taken  measures  for  introducing  the  Camel  into  this  country,  and  an  appro- 
priation of  |30,0Q0  has  been  made  by  Congress.  It  becomes  a  matter  of  practical  importance,  there- 
fore, to  obtain  the  fullest  and  most  reliable  information  possible  respecting  the  animal  and  his  adapta- 
tion to  this  country.  His  advent  among  us  will  stimulate  general  curiosity,  and  raise  a  thousand 
questions  respecting  his  character  and  habits  of  life,  his  powers  of  endurance,  his  food,  his  speed, 
his  length  of  life,  his  fecundity,  the  methods  of  managing  and  using  him,  the  cost  of  keeping  him, 
the  value  of  his  carcass  after  death,  &c.  This  work  furnishes,  in  a  small  compass,  all  the  desired 
information.— Boston  Atlas. 

A  complete  sketch  of  the  habits  and  nature  of  the  Camel  is  given,  which  has  great  interest.  The 
value  of  the  camel  as  a  beast  of  burden  is  abundantly  confirmed.  —  N.  Y.  Evangelist,      (z) 


HUGH     MILLER'S     WORKS. 
MY    FIRST    IMPRESSIONS 

OF   ENGLAND   AND    ITS   PEOPLE. 

By  Hugh  Miller,  author  of  "Old  Red  Sandstone,"  "  Footprints  of  the 
Creator"  etc.,  with  a  fine  likeness  of  the  author.     12mo,  cloth,  1,00, 

Let  not  the  careless  reader  imagine,  from  the  title  of  this  book,  that  it  is  a  common  book  of  travels, 
on  the  contrary,  it  is  a  very  remarkable  one,  both  in  design,  spirit,  and  execution.  The  facts  recorded^ 
and  the  views  advanced  in  this  book,  are  so  fresh,  vivid,  and  natural,  that  we  cannot  but  commend  it 
as  a  treasure,  both  of  information  and  entertainment.  It  will  greatly  enhance  the  author's  reputation 
in  this  country  as  it  already  has  in  England.  —  Willis's  Home  Journal. 

This  is  a  noble  book,  worthy  of  the  author  of  the  Footprints  of  the  Creator  and  the  Old  Red  Sand- 
stone, because  it  is  seasoned  with  the  same  power  of  vivid  description,  the  same  minuteness  of  obser- 
vation, and  soundness  of  criticism,  and  the  same  genial  piety.  We  have  read  it  with  deep  interest, 
and  with  ardent  admiration  of  the  author's  temper  and  genius.  It  isalmost  impossible  to  lay  the  book 
down,  even  to  attend  to  more  pressing  matters.  It  is,  without  compliment  or  hyperbole,  a  most  de- 
lightful volume.  —  If.  Y.  Commercial. 

It  abounds  with  graphic  sketches  of  scenery  and  character,  is  full  of  genius,  eloquence,  and  observa- 
tion, and  is  well  calcu.  to  arrest  the  attention  of  the  thoughtful  and  inquiring.  —  Phil.  Inquirer. 

This  is  a  most  amusing  and  instructive  book,  by  a  master  hand.  —  Democratic  Review. 

The  author  of  this  work  proved  himself,  in  the  Footprints  of  the  Creator,  one  of  the  most  original 
thinkers  and  powerful  writers  of  the  age.  In  the  volume  before  us  he  adds  new  laurels  to  his  reputa- 
tion. Whoever  wishes  to  understand  the  character  of  the  present  race  of  Englishmen,  as  contradistin- 
guished from  past  generations  ;  to  comprehend  the  workings  of  political,  social,  and  religious  agitation 
in  the  minds,  not  of  the  nobility  or  gentry,  but  of  this  people,  will  discover  that,  in  this  volume,  he  has 
found  a  treasure.  —  Peterson's  Magazine. 

His  eyes  were  open  to  see,  and  his  ears  to  hear,  every  thing ;  and,  as  the  result  of  what  he  saw  and 
heard  in  "  mcrrie  "  England,  he  has  made  one  of  the  most  spirited  and  attractive  volumes  of  travels 
and  observations  that  we  have  met  with  these  many  days.  —  Traveller. 

It  is  with  the  feeling  with  which  one  grasps  the  hand  of  an  old  friend  that  we  greet  to  our  home  and 
heart  the  author  of  the  Old  Red  Sandstone  and  Footprints  of  the  Creator.  Hugh  Miller  is  one  of  the 
most  agreeable,  entertaining,  and  instructive  writers  of  the  age  ;  and,  having  been  so  delighted  with 
him  before,  we  open  the  First  Impre  sions,  and  enter  upon  its  perusal  with  a  keen  intellectual  appe- 
tite. \Ve  know  of  no  work  in  England  so  full  of  adaptedness  to  the  age  as  this.  It  opens  up  clearly  to 
view  the  condition  of  its  various  classes,  sheds  new  light  into  its  social,  moral,  and  religious  history, 
uot  forgetting  its  geological  peculiarities,  and  draws  conclusions  of  great  value.  —  Albany  Spectator. 

We  commend  the  volume  to  our  readers  as  one  of  more  than  ordinary  value  and  interest,  from  the 
pen  of  a  writer  who  thinks  for  himself,  and  looks  at  mankind  and  at  nature  through  his  own  spec- 
tacles. —  Ti  anscript. 

The  author,  one  of  the  most  remarkable  men  of  the  age,  arranged  for  this  journey  into  England, 
expecting  to  "lodge  in  humble  cottages,  and  wear  a  humble  dress,  and  see  what  was  to  be  seen  by 
humble  men  only,-  society  without  its  mask."  Such  an  observer  might  be  expected  to  bring  to  view 
a  thousand  things  unknown,  or  partially  known  before  ;  and  abundantly  does  he  fulfil  this  expecta- 
tion.   It  is  one  of  the  most  absorbing  books  of  the  time.  —  Portland  Ch.  Mirror. 

NEW    WORK. 
MY  SCHOOLS   AND   SCHOOLMASTERS; 

OR    THE    STORY    OF    MY    EDUCATION. 

By    Hugh  Miller    author  of  "  Footprints  of  the  Creator,"   "  Old  Red 
Sandstone,"  "  First  Impressions  of  England."  etc.     lOmo,  cloth,  $1.25. 

This  is  n  personal  narrative  of  a  deeply  interesting  and  instructive  character,  concerning  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  men  of  the  age.    No  one  who  purchases  this  book  will  have  occasion  to  regret  it. 

U 


IMPORTANT  NEW  WORKS. 

THE  TESTIMONY  OF  THE  ROCKS  :  or,  Geology  in  its  Bearings  on 
the  two  Theologies,  Natural  and  Revealed.  By  Hugh  Miller.  "  Thou  shalt  be 
in  league  with  the  stones  of  the  field."  —  Job.  With  numerous  elegant  illustrations, 
12mo,  cloth,  $1.25. 

The  completion  of  this  important  work  employed  the  last  hours  of  the  lamented  author,  and  may 
be  considered  his  greatest  and  in  iact  his  life  work. 

MACATTLAY  ON  SCOTLAND.  A  Critique.  By  Hugh  Miller, 
Author  of  "  Footprints  of  the  Creator,"  &c.    iGmo-,  flexible  cloth,  25c. 

Every  one  who  has  read  Macaulay's  last  volumes  will  remember  in  what  an  unfavorable  light  he 
has  presented  the  Scottish  character.  In  this  critique  Hugh  Miller  enters  the  lists  in  defence  of 
Ins  native  country.  He  shows  that  the  distinguished  historian  has  sacrificed  truth  for  the  sake  of 
making  a  brilliant  picture,  and  also  gratifying  his  prejudices.  The  charm  of  Hugh  Miller's  style, 
rivalling  that  of  Macaulay  himself,  and  his  manifest  superiority  in  knowledge  of  historic  facts,  will 
6ecure  for  this  essay  a  wide  perusal.    It  certainly  presents  Macaulay  in  a  new  light  as  a  historian. 

When  we  read  Macaulay's  last  volumes,  we  said  that  they  wanted  nothing  but  the  fiction  to  make 
an  epic  poem  ;  and  now  it  seems  to  be  proved  that  they  are  not  wanting  even  in  that.  His  abuse  of 
the  Scotch  Presbyterians  is  shown  up  according  to  his  deserts,  in  the  little  work  before  us.  The 
truth  is.  that,  through  his  religious  prejudices,  Macaulay  is  incapable  of  understanding  either  the 
Presbyterians  or  the  Puritans,  or  any  other  who  have  a  spiritual  religion.  —  Puritan  Recorder. 

This  is  a  searching  Critique  upon  the  most  distinguished  living  historian  of  Great  Britain.  The 
name  of  Hugh  Miller  will  create  a  demand  for  it  among  those  who  are  acquainted  with  his  writings. 

—  Piiila.  Christian  Observer. 

The  historian  is  handled  with  amasterly  hand  in  its  pages.—  Dollar  Newspaper. 

It  is  very  sad  to  know  that  such  an  intellect  as  beams  through  these  brilliant  pages  has  been 
quenched  —  for  this  world  —  iu  the  waters  of  death.    This  critique  is  sparkling  and  severe,  but  just. 

-»   CO.NUKEOATIONALIST. 

He  meets  the  historian  at  the  fountain  head,  tracks  him  through  the  old  pamphlets  and  newspapers 
on  which  he  relied,  and  demonstrates  that  his  own  authorities  are  against  him.  In  the  course  of  the 
discussion,  some  new  facts  in  Macaulay's  personal  history  are  disclosed,  tending  to  set  his  assault  on 
the  Highlanders  in  a  very  unamiable  light.  The  weight  of  his  character  and  the  well  known  attrac- 
tions oi  his  style  will  secure  for  this  tract  a  wide  and  attentive  perusal.  —  Boston  Transcript. 

ESSAYS  IN  BIOGRAPHY  AND  CRITICISM.  By  Peter  Bayne, 
M.  A.,  Author  of  "  The  Christian  Life,  Social  and  Individual."  Arranged  in 
two  Semes,  or  Tarts.    12mo,  cloth,  each,  $1.00. 

This  work  is  prepared  by  the  author  exclusively  for  his  American  publishers.    It  includes  eigh- 
teen articles,  viz.: 
FntST  SERIES  :—  Thomas  Dc  Quincy.  —  Tennyson  and  his  Teachers.  —  Mrs.  Barrett  Browning. 

—  Recent  Aspects  of  British  Art.  —  John  Buskin.  —  Hugh  Miller.  —  The  Modern  Novel  ;  Dickens,  &c. 
«-  Ellis,  Acton,  and  Currer  Bell.  —  Charles  Kingslcy. 

Second  Skries  :  —  S.  T.  Coleridge.  —  T.  B.  Macaulay.  —  Alison.  —  Wellington.  —  Napoleon.  — 
riato.  -  Characteristics  of.  Christian  Civilization.  —  Education  in  the  Nineteenth  Century.  —  The 
Pulpit  and  the  Press. 

LIFE  AND  CHARACTER  OF  JAMES  MONTGOMERY.  Abridged 
from  the  recent  London,  seven  volume  edition.  By  Mrs.  II.  C.  Knight,  Author 
of  '■  Lady  Huntington  and  her  Friends,"  &c.  With  a  line  likeness  and  an  elegant 
illustrated  title  page  on  steel.     12mo,  cloth,  6125. 

This  is  an  original  biography  prepared  from  the  abundant,  but  ill-digested  materials  con- 
tained in  the  seven  octavo  volumes  of  the  London  edition.  The  gnat  bulk  of  that  work,  together 
with  the  heavy  stylo  of  its  literary  execution,  must  necessarily  prevent  its  republication  in  this 
country.  At  the  same  time,  the  Christian  public  in  America  will  expect  some  memoir  of  a  poet 
whose  hymns  and  sacred  melodies  have  been  the  delight  of  every  household.  Tins  work,  it  is  confi- 
dently hoped,  will  fully  satisfy  the  public  desire.  It  is  prepared  by  one  who  has  already  won  distin- 
guished laurels  in  this  department  of  literature.  (xj 


NEW    AND    VALUABLE    WORKS. 
MENTAL  PHILOSOPHY; 

Including  the  Intellect,  the  Sensibilities,  and  the  Will.  By  Joseph 
Haven,  Professor  of  Intellectual  and  Moral  Philosophy,  Amherst 
College.    12mo,  cloth.     In  press. 

The  need  of  a  new  text-book  on  Mental  Philosophy  has  long  been  felt  and  acknowledged  by  emi- 
nent teachers  in  this  department.  While  many  of  the  books  in  use  are  admitted  to  possess  great 
merits  in  some  respects,  none  has  been  found  altogether  satisfactory  as  a  text-book.  The  author 
of  tl lis  work,  having  learned  by  his  own  experience  as  a  teacher  of  the  science  in  one  of  our  mast 
flourishing  colleges  what  was  most  to  be  desired,  has  here  undertaken  to  supply  the  want.  How  far 
he  lias  succeeded,  those  occupying  similar  educational  positions  are  best  fitted  to  judge.  In  now  sub- 
mitting the  work  to  their  candid  judgment,  and  to  that  of  the  public  at  large,  particular  attention  is 
invited  to  the  following  characteristics,  by  which  it  is  believed  to  be  pre-eminently  distinguished. 

1.  The  Completeness  with  which  it  presents  the  whole  subject.  Some  text-books  treat  of  only 
one  class  of  faculties,  the  Intellect,  for  example,  omitting  the  Sensibilities  and  the  Will.  This  work 
includes  the  whole.  The  author  knows  of  no  reason  why  Moral  Philsophy  should  not  treat  of  the 
whole  mind  in  all  its  faculties. 

2.  It  is  strictly  and  thoroughly  sceintific.  The  author  has  aimed  to  make  a  science  of  the  mind, 
not  merely  a  series  cf  essays  on  certain  faculties,  like  those  of  Stewart  and  Keid. 

3.  It  presents  a  careful  analysis  of  the  mind  as  a  whole,  with  a  view  to  ascertain  its  several  facul- 
ties. This  point,  which  has  been  greatly  overlooked  by  writers  on  mental  science,  Prof.  Haven  has 
made  a  speciality.    It  has  cost  him  immense  study  to  satisfy  himself  in  obtaining  a  true  result. 

4.  The  history  and  literature  of  each  topic  are  made  the  subject  of  special  attention.  While 
some  treatises  are  wholly  deficient  in  this  respect,  others,  as  that  of  Stewart,  so  intermingle  literary 
and  critical  disquisition,  as  seriously  to  interfere  with  the  scientific  statement  of  the  topic  in  hand. 
Prof.  Haven,  on  the  contrary,  has  traced  the  history  of  each  important  branch  of  the  science,  and 
thrown  the  result  into  a  separate  section  at  the  close.    This  feature  is  regarded  as  wholly  original. 

5.  It  presents  the  latest  rrsults  of  the  science,  especially  the  discoveries  of  Sir  William  Ham- 
ilton in  relation  to  the  doctrines  of  Perception  and  of  Logic.  On  both  of  these  subjects  the  work  is 
Hamiltonian.  The  value  of  this  feature  will  best  be  estimated  by  those  who  know  how  difficult  of 
access  the  Hamiltonian  philosophy  has  hitherto  been.  No  American  writer  before  Prof.  Haven  has 
presented  any  adequate  or  just  account  of  Sir  William's  theory  of  perception  and  of  reasoning. 

G.  The  author  has  aimed  to  present  the  subject  in  an  attractive  style,  consistently  with  a 
thorough  scientific  treatment.  He  has  proceeded  on  the  ground  that  a  due  combination  of  the  poetic 
element  with  the  scientific  would  effect  a  great  improvement  in  philosophic  composition.  Perspicuity 
and  precision,  at  least,  will  be  found  to  be  marked  features  of  his  style. 

7.  The  author  has  studied  condensation.  Some  of  the  works  in  use  are  exceedingly  diffuse. 
Prof.  Haven  has  compressed  into  one  volume  what  by  other  writers  has  r  ?en  spread  over  three  or 
four.    Both  the  pecuniary  and  the  intellectual  advantages  of  this  condensation  are  obvious. 

Prof.  Park,  of  Andover,  having  examined  a  large  portion  of  the  work  in  manuscript,  says,  "  It  is 
distinguished  for  its  clearness  of  style,  perspicuity  of  method,  candor  of  spirit,  acumen  and 
comprehensiveness  of  thought.    I  have  been  heartily  interested  in  it." 

THE  WITNESS  OF  GOD ;  or  The  Natural  Evidence  of  His  Being  and 
Perfections,  as  the  Creator  and  Governor  of  the  World,  and  the  presumptions 
which  it  affords  in  favor  of  a  Supernatural  Revelation  of  His  Will.  By  James 
Buchanan,  D.  D.,  LL.D.,  Divinity  Professor  in  the  New  College,  Edinburgh; 
author  of  "  Modern  Atheism,"  etc.    12mo,  cloth,  $1.25.     In  press. 

GOTTHOLD'S  EMBLEMS  ;  or,  Invisible  things  understood  by  things 
that  are  made.  By  Christian  Scriver,  Minister  of  Magdeburg  in  1671.  Trans- 
lated from  the  twenty-eighth  German  edition,  by  the  Rev.  Robert  Menzies. 
12mo,  cloth.     In  press. 

THE  EXTENT  OF  THE  ATONEMENT  in  its  Relations  to  God  and 
the  Universe.  By  Thomas  W.  Jknkyn.  D.  D.  12mo,  cloth,  85  cts.  In  press. 
iSuT"  The  calls  for  this  most  important  and  popular  work,  —  which  for  some  time  past  has  been  out 
of  print  in  this  country,  —  have  been  frequent  and  urgent.  The  publishers,  therefore,  are  happy  in 
being  able  to  issue  the  work  tuokouguly  kevised  by  the  autuoe,  expressly  for  the 
American  edition.  (k.k.) 


WORKS  RECENTLY  PUBLISHED  AND  IN  PRESS. 


THE    LIFE    AND    POSTHUMOUS    WORKS    OE 

THE     EEV.     JOHN     HARRIS,     D.  D. 

Late  Principal  of  New  College,  .London,  and  formerly  Theological  Tutor  of  Cheshunt  College. 

Edited  by  the  Rev.  PHILIP    SMITH,    B.  A., 
Formerly  a  colleague  of  Dr.  Harris  in  Cheshunt  and  New  Colleges. 


This  scries  of  the  Remains  of  their  late  lamented  author  will  contain  the 

SERMONS  AND  CHARGES  delivered  by  him  in  various  parts  of  the  country,  during  the  height 
of  his  reputation  as  a  preacher. 

A  TREATISE  ON  NATURAL  AND  REVEALED  RELIGION,  exhibiting,  in  one  view,  the  latest 
results  of  his  Theological  Studies  ;  and  a  Fragment,  complete  in  itself,  of  the  work  which  was  in- 
terrupted by  his  death,  on 

THE   DIVINE  GOVERNMENT  OF  NATIONS.     Besides  other  Minor  Writings  and  Fragments. 
The  works  will  not  extend  beyond  four  elegant  royal  12mo  volumes.    The  Memoir  will  be  in  one 

volume,  uniform  with  the  works.    The  first  volume,  consisting  of  Sermons,  has  just  been  published, 

and  the  second  volume  will  shortly  be  issued. 

The  Sermons  of  Dr.  Harris  will  probably  prove  to  be  among  his  most  popular  productions.  They 
are  quite  unlike  other  writings  of  the  same  class.  Many  of  them  are  master-pieces  of  originality  and 
eloquence.  Some  of  them  will  compare  favorably  with  the  most  celebrated  pieces  of  pulpit  oratory. 
The  pulpit  was  Dr.  Harris's  favorite  theatre  of  action,  and  it  is  well  known  that  he  bestowed  im- 
mense labor  in  preparation  for  it.  In  consequence,  he  acquired  the  highest  reputation  as  a  preacher 
and  his  services  were  in  constant  request  on  important  occasions.  Thus  it  happened  that  most  of 
the  Sermons  here  presented  were  preached  twenty  times  or  more.  But  impressive  as  they  must  have 
been  when  uttered  by  the  living  voice,  they  are  scarcely  less  so  when  read  from  the  printed  page. 
They  stir  the  soul  like  strains  of  martial  music. 

THE  POOR  BOY  AND  MERCHANT  PRINCE;  or,  Elements  of 
Success  drawn  from  the  Life  and  Character  of  the  late  Amos  Law- 
rence. A  Book  for  Youth.  By  William  M.  Thayer,  author  of  "The  Morning 
Star,"  "  Life  at  the  Fireside,"  etc.  etc.    16mo,  cloth.    63  cents. 

The  publishers  feel  that  the  character  of  this  little  work  warrants  them  in  styling  it  one  of  the 
best  books  for  boys  that  has  ever  been  issued.  Its  basis  is  the  life  and  character  of  Amos 
Lawrence,  and  its  design  is  to  do  for  boys  what  the  "Diary  and  Correspondence"  of  Lawrence 
is  fitted  to  do  for  men,  young  and  old.  Lawrence  is  the  model  man  to  whom  the  eye  of  the  buy  is 
directed  in  every  chapter,  and  his  sayings  and  doings,  so  far  as  they  have  a  bearing  on  the  subject  in 
hand,  are  produced  and  commented  upon.  But  Lawrence  is  not  the  only  character  presented; 
numerous  anecdotes  of  other  distinguished  persons  are  introduced,  all  going  to  show  that  Lawrence 
and  such  men,  possessed  certain  elements  of  character  essential  to  success,  in  common.  The  work 
is  thus  rendered  extremely  entertaining,  while  it  is  all  the  while  highly  instructive. 

HARMONY  QUESTIONS  ox  the  Four  Gospels,  for  the  use  of  Sab- 
bath Schools.    By  Rev.  S.  B.  Swain.    Vol.  I.    Second  Series.    18mo.    124  cts. 

This  is  the  first  of  a  new  series  of  Question  Books,  which  will  be  completed  in  three  volumes. 
The  plan  differs  from  all  others  in  this,  that  it  is  based  upon  a  harmony  of  the  gospels.  Instead  of 
t  iking  one  of  the  gospels,  —  that  of  Mathew,  for  instance, —  and  going  through  with  it,  the  author 
takes  from  all  of  the  gospels  those  parts  relating  to  the  same  event,  and  brings  them  together  in  the 
game  Lesson.  In  this  way  the  pupil  gets  a  view  of  events  in  the  order  of  time,  and  also  a  view, 
at  one  glance,  of  all  the  connected  circumstances.  The  questions  are  so  framed  as  to  avoid  two  ex- 
tremes ;  that  of  multiplying  difficulties  on  the  one  hand,  and  that  of  making  everything  easy  on  the 
other.  But  few  of  the  questions  can  be  answered  by  yes  or  no.  A  practical  bearing  is  given  to 
the  subject  of  every  lesson. 

The  author's  plan  embraces  another  series  of  three  volumes  for  primary  classes,  relating  to  the 
same  portions  of  scripture. 

THE  EPISTLE  OF  PAUL  TO  THE  ROMANS.     With  Notes,  chiefly 

Explanatory.  Designed  for  Teachers  in  Sabbath  Schools  and  Bible  Classes,  and 
as  an  Aid  to  Family  Instruction.  By  Henry  J.  Ripley,  Trof.  in  Newton  Theo- 
logical Institution.    12nio,  half  calf.     In  press.  (  j  .•  j 


GOULD   AND  LINCOLN, 

59  WASHINGTON  STREET,  BOSTON, 

Would  call  particular  attention  to  the  following  valuable  wonts  described 
in  their  Catalogue  of  Publications,  viz. : 

Hugh.   Miller's    Works. 

Bayne's  Works.       Walker's  Works.       Miall's  Works.       Eungener's    Work. 

Aruinal  of  Scientific  Discovery.      Knight's  Knowledge  is  Power. 

Krummacher's   Suffering  Saviour, 

Banvard's  American  Histories.      The  Aimwell   Stories. 

Hewcomb'a  Works.     Tweedie's  Works.     Chambers's  Works.     Harris'  Works. 

Kitto'a  Cyclopaedia  of  Biblical  Literature. 

Mrs.  Knignfs  Life  of  Montgomery.        Kitto's  History  of  Palestin 

Wheewell's  Work.     Wayland's  Works.     Agassiz's  Works. 


^>.  r.-s/f/rjv.  s.< 


William's  Works.     G-uyot's  Works. 

Thompson's  Better  Land.     Kimball's  Heaven.    Valuable  Works  on  Missions. 

Haven's  Mental  Philosophy.     Buchanan's  Modern  Atheism. 

Cruden's  Condensed  Concordance.     Eadie's  Analytical  Concordance. 

The  Psalmist :   a  Collection    of  Hymns. 

Valuable  School  Books.     Works   for  Sabbath  Schools. 

Memoir  of  Amos   Lawrence. 

Poetical  Works  of  Milton,  Cowper,  Scott.       Elegant  Miniature  Volumes. 

Arvine's   Cyclopaedia  of  Anecdotes. 

Ripley's  Notes   on   G-ospels,  Acts,   and  Romans. 

Sprague's  European  Celebrities.     Marsh's  Camel  and  the  Hallig. 

Roget's  Thesaurus  of  English  Words. 

Hackett's  Notes  on  Acts.      M'Whorter's  Yahveh  Christ. 

Siebold  and  Stannius's  Comparative  Anatomy.    Marco's  Geological  Map,  XT.  S. 

Religious   and  Miscellaneous  Works. 

Works  in  the  various  Departments  of  Literature,  Science  and  Art. 


<r 


J   L 


I    iili! 


i    lll'lii  1 


